UC-NRLF 


$B    bD    301 


eBelgiatipins 


Luc^; '  f itch'pcrVtns 


L.*   S 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

Education 
GIFT  OF 

Mrs.  Earle  Brown 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

Microsoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/belgiantwinsOOperkrich 


THE  BELGIAN  TWINS 

By  Lucy  Fitch  Perkins 


ILLUSTRATED    BY   THE    AUTHOR 


BOSTON   AND    NEW    YORK 

HOUGHTON   MIFFLIN   COMPANY 

Cl)c  KitoersiUe  JJrc fig  Cambrtlise 


^P  Lucp  Jitcl)  JJerUias 


Geographical  Series 
THE   DUTCH    TWINS    PRIMER.     Grade  I. 
THE   DUTCH  TWINS.     Grade  HI. 
THE  ESKIMO  TWINS.     Grade  II. 
THE  JAPANESE  TWINS.     Grade  IV. 
THE  IRISH   TWINS.     Grade  V. 
THE   MEXICAN  TWINS.     Grade  VI. 

Historical  Series 
THE  CAVE  TWINS.     Grade  IV. 
THE  BELGIAN  TWINS.     Grade  VI. 


Each  volums  is  illustrated  by  tlu  author. 


HOUGHTON   MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
Boston  New  York  Chicago 


COPYRIGHT,    1917,    BY   LL'CY    FITCIl   PERKINS 


ALL   RIGHTS   RKSERVEO 


Education 


GIFT 


CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U   .   S   .    A 


PREFACE 


In  this  sad  hour  of  the  world's  history,  when  so 
many  homes  have  been  broken  up,  and  so  many 
hearts  burdened  with  heavy  sorrows,  it  is  comforting 
to  think  of  the  many  heroic  souls  who,  throughout 
the  struggle,  have  gone  about  their  daily  tasks  with 
unfailing  courage  and  cheerfulness,  and  by  so  do- 
ing have  helped  to  carry  the  burdens  of  the  worlds 
and  to  sustain  other  hearts  as  heavy  as  their  own. 

It  is  comforting,  also,  to  know  that  there  are 
many  instances  of  happy  reunions  after  long  and 
unspeakable  anxieties,  adventures,  and  trials. 

This  story  of  two  little  Belgian  refugees  is  based 
upon  the  actual  experience  of  two  Belgian  children, 
and  the  incident  of  the  locket  is  quite  true. 

The  characters  of  the  eel -woman  and  the  mother 
of  the  Twins  have  also  their  living  originals,  from 
whose  courage  and  devotion  the  author  has  received 
much  inspiration. 


CONTENTS 

I.  The  Harvest-Field          .         .         .         .5 

11.    The  Rumors 19 

III.  The  Alarm       .         .         .         .         .  31 

IV.  *'FoR  King,  for  Law  and  Liberty"    .         41 
V.  Doing  a  Man's  Work      .         .         .         -49 

VI.  At  the  Church    .....         63 

VII.  The  Tidal  Wave  of  Germans        .         .71 

VIII.  Granny  and  the  Eels          .                            87 

IX.  Off  for  Antwerp  .         .         .         .         .   109 

X.  On  the  Tow-Path         .         .         .         .127 

XI.   The  Attack 143 

XII.  The  Zeppelin  Raid      .         .         ,         .        161 

XIII.  Refugees  ......   173 

XIV.  The  Most  Wonderful  Part       .         .       185 


THE  BELGIAN  TWINS 


1 

THE  HARVEST-FIELD 


I 

THE  HARVEST-FIELD 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  of  a  long  sum- 
mer's day  in  Belgium.  Father  Van  Hove 
was  still  at  work  in  the  harvest-field,  though 
the  sun  hung  so  low  in  the  west  that  his 
shadow,  stretching  far  across  the  level,  green 
plain,  reached  almost  to  the  little  red-roofed 
house  on  the  edge  of  the  village  which  was 
his  home.  Another  shadow,  not  so  long, 
and  quite  a  little  broader,  stretched  itself 
beside  his,  for  Mother  Van  Hove  was  also 
in  the  field,  helping  her  husband  to  load  the 
golden  sheaves  upon  an  old  blue  farm-cart 
which  stood  near  by. 

There  were  also  two  short,  fat  shadows 
which  bobbed  briskly  about  over  the  green 
meadow  as  their  owners  danced  among  the 
wheat-sheaves  or  carried  handfuls  of  fresh 
grass  to  Pier,  the  patient  white  farm-horse, 

7 


hitched  to  the  cart.  These  gay  shadows  be- 
longed to  Jan  and  Marie,  sometimes  called 
by  their  parents  Janke  and  Mie,i  for  short. 
Jan  and  Marie  were  the  twin  son  and  daugh- 
ter of  Father  and  Mother  Van  Hove,  and 
though  they  were  but  eight  years  old,  they 
were  already  quite  used  to  helping  their 
father  and  mother  with  the  work  of  their 
little  farm. 

They  knew  how  to  feed  the  chickens  and 
hunt  the  eggs  and  lead  Pier  to  water  and 
pull  weeds  in  the  garden.  In  the  spring  they 
had  even  helped  sow  the  wheat  and  barley, 
and  now  in  the  late  summer  they  were 
helping  to  harvest  the  grain. 

The  children  had  been  in  the  field  since 
sunrise,  but  not  all  of  the  long  bright  day 
had  been  given  to  labor.  Early  in  the  morn- 
ing their  father's  pitchfork  had  uncovered  a 
nest  of  field  mice,  and  the  Twins  had  made 
another  nest,  as  much  like  the  first  as  pos- 
sible, to  put  the  homeless  field  babies  in, 
hoping  that  their  mother  would  find  them 

'  Pronounced  Yan'kay  and  Me. 
.  8 


again  and  resume  her  interrupted  house- 
keeping. 

Then  they  had  played  for  a  long  time  in 
the  tiny  canal  which  separated  the  wheat- 
field  from  the  meadow,  where  Bel,  their 
black  and  white  cow,  was  pastured.  There 
was  also  Fidel,  the  dog,  their  faithful  com- 
panion and  friend.  The  children  had  fol- 
lowed him  on  many  an  excursion  among 
the  willows  along  the  river-bank,  for  Fidel 
might  at  any  moment  come  upon  the  rabbit 
or  water  rat  which  he  was  always  seeking, 
and  what  a  pity  it  would  be  for  Jan  and 
Marie  to  miss  a  sight  like  that! 

When  the  sun  was  high  overhead,  the 
whole  family,  and  Fidel  also,  had  rested 
under  a  tree  by  the  little  river,  and  Jan  and 
Marie  had  shared  with  their  father  and 
mother  the  bread  and  cheese  which  had 
been  brought  from  home  for  their  noon 
meal.  Then  they  had  taken  a  nap  in  the 
shade,  for  it  is  a  long  day  that  begins  and 
ends  with  the  midsummer  sun.  The  bees 
hummed  so  drowsily   in    the    clover  that 

9 


.^hM. 


Mother  Van  Hove  also  took  forty  winks, 
while  Father  Van  Hove  led  Pier  to  the 
river  for  a  drink,  and  tied  him  where  he 
could  enjoy  the  rich  meadow  grass  for  a 
while. 

And  now  the  long  day  was  nearly  over. 
The  last  level  rays  of  the  disappearing  sun 


lO 


glistened  on  the  red  roofs  of  the  village,  and 
the  windows  of  the  little  houses  gave  back 
an  answering  flash  of  light.  On  the  steeple 
of  the  tiny  church  the  gilded  cross  shone 
like  fire  against  the  gray  of  the  eastern  sky. 

The  village  clock  struck  seven  and  was 
answered  faintly  by  the  sound  of  distant 
chimes  from  the  Cathedral  of  Malines,  miles 
away  across  the  plain. 

For  some  time  Father  Van  Hove  had 
been  standing  on  top  of  the  load,  catch- 
ing the  sheaves  which  Mother  Van  Hove 
tossed  up  to  him,  and  stowing  them  away 
in  the  farm-wagon,  which  was  already 
heaped  high  with  the  golden  grain.  As  the 
clock  struck,  he  paused  in  his  labor,  took 
off  his  hat,  and  wiped  his  brow.  He  listened 
for  a  moment  to  the  music  of  the  bells, 
glanced  at  the  western  sky,  already  rosy 
with  promise  of  the  sunset,  and  at  the 
weather-cock  above  the  cross  on  the  church- 
steeple.  Then  he  looked  down  at  the  sheaves 
of  wheat,  still  standing  Hke  tiny  tents  across 
the  field. 

ji 


.  **It's  no  use,  Mother,"  he  said  at  last; 
*'  we  cannot  put  it  all  in  to-night,  but  the 
sky  gives  promise  of  a  fair  day  to-morrow, 
and  the  weather-cock,  also,  points  east. 
We  can  finish  in  one  more  load;  let  us  go 
home  now." 

"The  clock  struck  seven,"  cried  Jan.  'T 
counted  the  strokes." 

**  What  a  scholar  is  our  Janke ! "  laughed 
his  mother,  as  she  lifted  the  last  sheaf  of 
wheat  on  her  fork  and  tossed  it  at  Father 
Van  Hove's  feet.  ''  He  can  count  seven 
when  it  is  supper-time !  As  for  me,  I  do 
not  need  a  clock;  I  can  tell  the  time  of  day 
by  the  ache  in  my  bones ;  and,  besides  that, 
there  is  Bel  at  the  pasture  bars  waiting  to 
be  milked  and  bellowing  to  call  me." 

**  I  don't  need  a  clock  either,"  chimed  in 
Marie,  patting  her  apron  tenderly;  *'  I  can 
tell  time  by  my  stomach.  It 's  a  hundred 
years  since  we  ate  our  lunch;  I  know  it  is." 

"Come,  then,  my  starvelings,"  said 
Mother  Van  Hove,  pinching  Marie's  fat 
cheek,  "and  you  shall  save  your  strength 

12 


^n  ^  .A  4KIK 


by  riding  home  on  the  load !   Here,  ma  Mie, 
up  you  go  !  " 

She   swung   Marie   into  the  air  as   she 
13 


spoke.  Father  Van  Hove  reached  down 
from  his  perch  on  top  of  the  load,  caught 
her  in  his  arms,  and  enthroned  her  upon 
the  fragrant  grain. 

*'And  now  it  is  your  turn,  my  Janke!" 
cried  Mother  Van  Hove,  ''and  you  shall 
ride  on  the  back  of  old  Pier  like  a  soldier 
going  to  the  wars !  "  She  lifted  Jan  to  the 
horse's  back,  while  Father  Van  Hove 
climbed  down  to  earth  once  more  and  took 
up  the  reins. 

Fidel  came  back  dripping  wet  from  the 
river,  shook  himself,  and  fell  in  behind 
the  wagon.  **U-U!"  cried  Father  Van 
Hove  to  old  Pier,  and  the  little  procession 
moved  slowly  up  the  cart-path  toward 
the  shining  windows  of  their  red-roofed 
house. 

The  home  of  the  Van  Hoves  lay  on  the 
very  outskirts  of  the  little  hamlet  of  Meer. 
Beside  it  ran  a  yellow  ribbon  of  road  which 
stretched  across  the  green  plain  clear  to  the 
city  of  Malines.  As  they  turned  from  the 
cart-path  into  the  road,  the  old  blue  cart 

H 


became  part  of  a  little  procession  of  similar 
wagons,  for  the  other  men  of  Meer  were  also 
late  in  coming  home  to  the  village  from  their 
outlying  farms. 

*' Good-evening,  neighbor,"  cried  Father 
Van  Hove  to  Father  Maes,  whose  home 
lay  beyond  his  in  the  village.  "How  are 
your  crops  coming  on?" 

** Never  better,"  answered  Father  Maes; 
**  I  have  more  wheat  to  the  acre  than  ever 
before." 

**  So  have  I,  thanks  be  to  the  good  God," 
answered  Father  Van  Hove.  **  The  winter 
will  find  our  barns  full  this  year." 

*'  Yes,"  replied  Father  Maes  a  little  sadly; 
**that  is,  if  we  have  no  bad  luck,  but  Jules 
Verhulst  was  in  the  city  yesterday  and  heard 
rumors  of  a  German  army  on  our  borders.  It 
is  very  likely  only  an  idle  tale  to  frighten 
the  women  and  children,  but  Jules  says 
there  are  men  also  who  believe  it." 

''  I  shall  believe  nothing  of  the  sort,"  said 
Father  Van  Hove  stoutly.  ''Are  we  not 
safe  under  the  protection  of  our  treaty? 

IS 


No,  no,  neighbor,  there's  nothing  to  fear! 
Belgium  is  neutral  ground." 

**I  hope  you  may  be  right,"  answered 
Father  Maes,  cracking  his  whip,  and  the 
cart  moved  on. 

Mother  Van  Hove,  meanwhile,  had  has- 
tened ahead  of  the  cart  to  stir  up  the 
kitchen  fire  and  put  the  kettle  on  before 
the  others  should  reach  home,  and  when 
Father  Van  Hove  at  last  drove  into  the 
farmyard,  she  was  already  on  the  way  to 
the  pasture  bars  with  her  milk-pail  on  her 
arm.  ''Set  the  table  for  supper,  ma  Mie," 
she  called  back,  "and  do  not  let  the  pot 
boil  over!  Jan,  you  may  shut  up  the  fowls; 
they  have  already  gone  to  roost." 

"And  what  shall  I  do.  Mother?  "  laughed 
Father  Van  Hove. 

"You,"  she  called  back,  "you  may  un- 
harness Pier  and  turn  him  out  in  the  pas- 
ture for  the  night!  And  I  '11  wager  I  shall 
be  back  with  a  full  milk-pail  before  you  Ve 
ev€n  so  much  as  fed  the  pig,  let  alone  the 
other   chores  —  men   are   so   slow!"    She 

i6 


waved  her  hand  gayly  and  disappeared  be- 
hind the  pasture  bars,  as  she  spoke. 

*'  Hurry,  now,  my  man,"  said  Father  Van 
Hove  to  Jan.  *'We  must  not  let  Mother 
beat  us!  We  will  let  the  cart  stand  right 
here  near  the  barn,  and  to-morrow  we  can 
store  the  grain  away  to  make  room  for  a 
new  load.  I  will  let  you  lead  Pier  to  the 
pasture,  while  I  feed  the  pig  myself;  by  her 
squeals  she  is  hungry  enough  to  eat  you 
up  in  one  mouthful." 


^-••1 


n 

THE  RUMORS 


^^'-e 


^•i. 


-^> 


II 

THE  RUMORS 

When  Mother  Van  Hove  returned  from 
the  pasture,  fifteen  minutes  later,  her  orders 
had  all  been  carried  out.  Pier  was  in  the 
pasture,  the  hens  were  shut  up  for  the  night, 
and  the  pig,  which  had  been  squealing  with 
hunger,  was  now  grunting  with  satisfaction 
over  her  evening  meal ;  Fidel  was  gnawing 
a  bone,  and  Father  Van  Hove  was  already 
washing  his  hands  at  the  pump,  beside  the 
kitchen  door. 

**You  are  all  good  children,"  said  the 
mother  as  she  set  down  her  brimming  pail 
and  took  her  turn  at  the  wash-basin  and 
the  soap.  "Jan  and  Marie,  have  you  washed 
your  hands?" 

'*I  have,"  called  Marie  from  the  kitchen, 
**and  supper  is  ready  and  the  table  set." 

21 


*'  I  washed  my  hands  in  the  canal  this 
morning,"  pleaded  Jan.   ''Won't  that  do?" 

"You  ate  your  lunch  this  noon,  too," 
answered  his  mother  promptly.  *'  Won't 
that  do  ?  Why  do  you  need  to  eat  again 
when  you  have  already  eaten  twice  to- 
day?" 

*'  Because  I  am  hungry  again,"  answered 
Jan. 

''Well,  you  are  also  dirty  again,"  said 
his  mother,  as  she  put  the  soap  in  his  hands 
and  wiped  her  own  on  the  clean  towel 
which  Marie  handed  her  from  the  door. 
She  cleaned  her  wooden  shoes  on  the  bun- 
dle of  straw  which  lay  for  the  purpose  be- 
side the  kitchen  door ;  then  she  went  inside 
and  took  her  place  opposite  Father  Van 
Hove  at  the  little  round  oaken  table  by  the 
window. 

Marie  was  already  in  her  chair,  and  in 
a  moment  Jan  joined  them  with  a  beaming 
smile  and  a  face  which,  though  clean  in 
the  middle,  showed  a  gray  border  from  ear 
to  ear. 

22 


'•  If  you  don't  believe  I  'm  clean,  look  at 
the  towel !  "  he  said,  holding  it  up. 

''  Oh,  my  heart !  "  cried  his  mother, 
throwing  up  her  hands.  '*  I  declare  there 
is  but  one  creature  in  all  God's  world  that 
cares  nothing  for  cleanliness!  Even  a  pig 
has  some  manners  if  given  half  a  chance, 
but  boys!"  She  seized  the  grimy  towel 
and  held  it  up  despairingly  for  Father  Van 
Hove  to  see.    ''  He 's  just  wet  his  face  and 

23 


wiped  all  the  dirt  off  on  the  towel.  The 
Devil  himself  is  not  more  afraid  of  holy- 
water  than  Jan  Van  Hove  is  of  water  of 
any  kind  !  "  she  cried. 

**  Go  and  wash  yourself  properly,  Janke/* 
said  his  father  sternly,  and  Jan  disappeared 
through  the  kitchen  door.  Sounds  of  vigor- 
ous pumping  and  splashing  without  were 
heard  in  the  kitchen,  and  when  Jan  ap- 
peared once  more,  he  was  allowed  to  take 
his  place  at  the  supper-table  with  the 
family. 

Father  Van  Hove  bowed  his  head,  and 
the  Twins  and  their  mother  made  the  sign 
of  the  cross  with  him,  as  he  began  their 
grace  before  meat.  **  In  the  name  of  the 
Father  and  of  the  Son  and  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  Amen,"  prayed  Father  Van  Hove. 
"Hail,  Mary,  full  of  Grace."  Then,  as  the 
prayer  continued,  the  mother  and  children 
with  folded  hands  and  bowed  heads  joined 
in  the  petition:  "Holy  Mary,  Mother  of 
God,  pray  for  us  sinners  now  and  in  the 
hour  of  our  death.  Amen."    A  clatter  of 


spoons  followed  the  grace,  and  Mother  Van 
Hove's  good  buttermilk  pap  was  not  long 
in  disappearing  down  their  four  hungry 
throats. 

The  long  day  in  the  open  air  had  made 
the  children  so  sleepy  they  could  scarcely 
keep  their  eyes  open  through  the  meal. 
"Come,  my  children,"  said  their  mother 
briskly,  as  she  rose  from  the  table,  "pop 
into  bed,  both  of  you,  as  fast  as  you  can 
go.  You  are  already  half  asleep!  Father, 
you  help  them  with  their  buttons,  and  hear 
them  say  their  prayers,  while  I  wash  up 
these  dishes  and  take  care  of  the  milk.'* 
She  took  a  candle  from  the  chimney-piece 
as  she  spoke,  and  started  down  cellar  with 
the  skimmer.  When  she  came  back  into 
the  kitchen  once  more,  the  children  were 
safely  tucked  in  bed,  and  her  husband  was 
seated  by  the  kitchen  door  with  his  chair 
tipped  back  against  the  wall,  smoking  his 
evening  pipe.  Mother  Van  Hove  cleared 
the  table,  washed  the  dishes,  and  brushed 
the  crumbs  from  the  tiled  floor.  Then  she 

25 


spread  the  white  sand  once  more  under  the 
table  and  in  a  wide  border  around  the  edge 
of  the  room,  and  hung  the  brush  outside 
the  kitchen  door. 

Father  Van  Hove  smoked  in  silence  as 
she  moved  about  the  room.  At  last  he  said 

36 


to  her,  "Ldonie,  did  you  hear  what  our 
neighbor  Maes  said  to-night  as  we  were 
talking  in  the  road?" 

'* No,"  said  his  wife,  ''I  was  hurrying 
home  to  get  supper." 

*'Maes  said  there  are  rumors  of  a  Ger- 
man army  on  our  frontier,"  said  Father  Van 
Hove. 

.  His  wife  paused  in  front  of  him  with  her 
hands  on  her  hips.  /^Who  brought  that 
story  to  town?"  she  demanded. 

^*  Jules  Verhulst,"  answered  her  hus- 
band. 

^' Jules  Verhulst!"  sniffed  Mother  Van 
Hove  with  disdain.  ''  He  knows  more  things 
that  are  n't  so  than  any  man  in  this  village. 
I  would  n't  believe  anything  on  his  say-so  ! 
Besides,  the  whole  world  knows  that  all  the 
Powers  have  agreed  that  Belgium  shall  be 
neutral  ground,  and  have  bound  themselves 
solemnly  to  protect  that  neutrality.  I  learned 
that  in  school,  and  so  did  you." 

''Yes,"  sighed  Father  Van  Hove.  *' I 
learned  it  too,  and  surely  no  nation  can  have 

27 


anything  against  us  !  We  have  given  no  one 
cause  for  complaint  that  I  know  of." 

"It's  nonsense,"  said  his  wife  with  de- 
cision. "Belgium  is  safe  enough  so  far  as 
that  goes,  but  one  certainly  has  to  work  hard 
here  just  to  make  ends  meet  and  get  food 
for  all  the  hungry  mouths !  They  say  it  is 
different  in  America ;  there  you  work  less 
and  get  more,  and  are  farther  away  from 
meddlesome  neighboring  countries  besides. 
I  sometimes  wish  we  had  gone  there  with 
my  sister.  She  and  her  husband  started  with 
no  more  than  we  have,  and  now  they  are 
rich  —  at  least  they  were  when  I  last  heard 
from  them  ;  but  that  was  a  long  time  ago," 
she  finished. 

"Well,"  said  Father  Van  Hove,  as  he 
stood  up  and  knocked  the  ashes  from  his 
pipe,  "it  may  be  that  they  have  more  money 
and  less  work,  but  I  've  lived  here  in  this 
spot  ever  since  I  was  born,  and  my  father 
before  me.  Somehow  I  feel  I  could  never 
take  root  in  any  other  soil.  I  'm  content 
with  things  as  they  are." 

28 


*'So  am  I,  for  the  matter  of  that,"  said 
Mother  Van  Hove  cheerfully,  as  she  put 
Fidel  outside  and  shut  the  door  for  the 
night.  Then,  taking  the  candle  from  the 
chimney-piece  once  more,  she  led  the  way 
to  the  inner  room,  where  the  Twins  were 
already  soundly  sleeping. 


Ill 

THE  ALARM 


Ill 

,      THE  ALARM 

bOR  some  time  the  little  village  of  Meer 
slept  quietly  in  the  moonlight.  There  was 
not  a  sound  to  break  the  stillness,  ex- 
cept once  when  Mother  Van  Hove's  old 
rooster  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  waning 
moon  through  the  window  of  the  chicken- 
house,  and  crowed  lustily,  thinking  it  was 
the  sun.  The  other  roosters  of  the  village, 
wiser  than  he,  made  no  response  to  his  call, 
and  in  a  moment  he,  too,  returned  to  his 
interrupted  slumbers.  But  though  there  was 
as  yet  no  sound  to  tell  of  their  approach,  the 
moon  looked  down  upon  three  horsemen 
galloping  over  the  yellow  ribbon  of  road 
from  Malines  toward  the  little  village.  Soon 
the  sound  of  the  horses'  hoofs  beating  upon 
the  hardened  earth  throbbed  through  the  vil- 
lage itself,  and  Fidel  sat  up  on  the  kitchen 

33 


doorstep,  pricked  up  his  ears,  and  listened. 
He  heard  the  hoof-beats  and  awakened  the 
echoes  with  a  sharp  bark. 

Mother  Van  Hove  sat  up  in  bed  and  hs- 
tened;  another  dog  barked,  and  another, 
and  now  she,  too,  heard  the  hoof-beats. 
Nearer  they  came,  and  nearer,  and  now  she 
could  hear  a  voice  shouting.  She  shook  her 
husband.  '*Wake  up!"  she  whispered  in 
his  ear,  ''something  is  wrong !  Fidel  barks, 
and  I  hear  strange  noises  about.  Wake  up ! " 

''Fidel  is  crazy,"  said  Father  Van  Hove 
sleepily.  "He  thinks  some  weasel  is  after 
the  chickens  very  likely.  Fidel  will  attend 
to  it.  Go  to  sleep." 

He  sank  back  again  upon  his  pillows,  but 
his  wife  seized  his  arm  and  pulled  him  up. 
"Listen!"  she  said.  "Oh,  listen!  Weasels 
do  not  ride  on  horseback !  There  are  hoof- 
beats  on  the  road! " 

"  Some  neighbor  returning  late  from  Ma- 
lines,"  said  Father  Van  Hove,  yawning. 
"  It  does  not  concern  us." 

But  his  wife  was  already  out  of  bed 
34 


and  at  the  window.  The  horsemen  were 
now  plainly  visible,  riding  like  the  wind, 
and  as  they  whirled  by  the  houses  their 
shout  thrilled  through  the  quiet  streets  of 
the  village :  '*  Burghers,  awake  !  Awake  ! 
Awake!" 

Wide  awake  at  last,  Father  Van  Hove 
sprang  out  of  bed  and  hastily  began  putting 
on  his  clothes.  His  wife  was  already  nearly 
dressed,  and  had  lighted  a  candle.  Other 
lights  sparkled  from  the  windows  of  other 
houses.  Suddenly  the  bell  in  the  church- 
steeple  began  to  ring  wildly,  as  though  it, 
too,  were  shaken  with  a  sudden  terror.  ''  It 
must  be  a  fire,"  said  Father  Van  Hove. 

Still  fastening  her  clothing,  his  wife  ran 
out  of  the  door  and  looked  about  in  every 
direction.  **I  see  no  fire,"  she  said,  ''but 
the  village  street  is  full  of  people  running 
to  the  square!  Hurry!  Hurry!  We  must 
take  the  children  with  us;  they  must  not  be 
left  here  alone." 

She  ran  to  wake  the  children,  as  she 
spoke,  and,  helped  by  her  trembling  fingers, 

35 


they,  too,  were  soon  dressed,  and  the  four 
ran  together  up  the  road  toward  the  village 
•church.  The  bell  still  clanged  madly  from 
the  steeple,  and  the  vibrations  seemed  to 
shake  the  very  flesh  of  the  trembling  chil- 
dren as  they  clung  to  their  mother's  hands 
and  tried  to  keep  up  with  their  father's 
rapid  strides. 

They  found  all  the  village  gathered  in 
front  of  the  little  town-hall.  On  its  steps 
stood  the  Burgomeister  and  the  village 
priest,  and  near  them,  still  sitting  astride 

36 


his  foam-flecked  steed,  was  one  of  the  sol- 
diers who  had  brought  the  alarm.  His  two 
companions  were  already  far  beyond  Meer, 
flying  over  the  road  to  arouse  the  villages 
which  lay  farther  to  the  east.  The  church- 
bell  suddenly  ceased  its  metallic  clatter,  and 
while  its  deep  tones  still  throbbed  through 
the  night  air,  the  wondering  and  frightened 
people  crowded  about  the  steps  in  breath- 
less suspense. 

The  Burgomeister  raised  his  hand.  Even 
in  the  moonlight  it  could  be  seen  that  he 
was  pale.  He  spoke  quickly.  ''Neighbors," 
he  said,  *' there  is  bad  news!  the  German 
army  is  on  our  borders  !  It  is  necessary  for 
every  man  of  military  age  and  training  to 
join  the  colors  at  once  in  case  the  army  is 
needed  for  defense.  There  is  not  a  moment 
to  lose.  This  messenger  is  from  headquar- 
ters. He  will  tell  you  what  you  are  to 
do." 

The  soldier  now  spoke  for  the  first  time. 
**Men  of  Belgium,"  he  cried,  ''your  serv- 
ices are  needed  for  your  country  and  your 

37 


King !  The  men  of  Meer  are  to  report  at 
once  to  the  army  headquarters  at  Mahnes. 
Do  not  stop  even  to  change  your  clothing ! 
We  are  not  yet  at  war,  and  our  good  King 
Albert  still  hopes  to  avert  it  by  an  armed 
peace,  but  the  neutrality  of  Belgium  is  at 
stake,  and  we  must  be  ready  to  protect  it 
at  any  cost,  and  at  an  instant's  notice.  Go 
at  once  to  the  Brussels  gate  of  Malines. 
An  officer  will  meet  you  there  and  tell  you 
what  to  do.  I  must  ride  on  to  carry  the 
alarm  to  Putte."  He  wheeled  his  horse  as 
he  spoke,  and,  turning  in  his  saddle,  lifted 
his  sword  and  cried,  ''  Vive  le  Roi !  " 

*'Vive  le  Roi!  Vive  la  Belgique!"  came 
in  an  answering  shout  from  the  people  of 
Meer,  and  he  was  gone. 

There  was  a  moment  of  stunned  silence 
as  he  rode  away ;  then  a  sound  of  women 
weeping.  The  Burgomeister  came  down 
from  the  steps  of  the  town-hall,  said  fare- 
well to  his  wife  and  children,  and  took 
his  place  at  the  head  of  the  little  group 
of  men  which  was  already  beginning  to 

38 


form  in  marching  order.  The  priest  moved 
about  among  his  people  with  words  of 
comfort. 

Father  Van  Hove  turned  to  his  wife,  and 
to  Jan  and  Marie,  who  were  cHnging  to  her 
skirts.  **  It  is  only  a  bad  dream,  my  little 
ones,"  he  said,  patting  their  heads  tenderly ; 
"we  shall  wake  up  some  day.  And  you, 
my  wife,  do  not  despair !  I  shall  soon  re- 
turn, no  doubt !  Our  good  King  will  yet 
save  us  from  war.  You  must  finish  the  har- 
vest alone  —  but  —  "  *'  Fall  in  !  "  cried  the 
voice  of  the  Burgomeister,  and  Father  Van 
Hove  kissed  his  wife  and  children  and 
stepped  forward. 

Mother  Van  Hove  bravely  checked  her 
rising  sobs.  '*We  shall  go  with  you  to 
Malines,  at  any  rate,"  she  said  firmly.  And 
as  the  little  group  of  men  started  forward 
along  the  yellow  road,  she  and  many  more 
women  and  children  of  the  village  marched 
away  with  them  in  the  gray  twilight  which 
precedes  the  coming  of  the  dawn.  The 
priest  went  with   his  people,  praying  for 

39 


them  as  he  walked,  in  a  voice  that  shook 
with  feehng. 

The  sky  was  red  in  the  east  and  the  larks 
were  already  singing  over  the  quiet  fields 
when  the  men  of  Meer,  followed  by  their 
wives  and  children,  presented  themselves 
at  the  Brussels  gate  of  the  city. 


IV 

"  FOR  KING,  FOR  LAW  AND 
LIBERTY  " 


'.J^'i^ 


IV 

"FOR  KING,  FOR  LAW  AND 
LIBERTY" 

At  the  gate  they  were  met  by  an  afificer, 
who  at  once  took  command  of  the  com- 
pany. There  was  only  a  moment  for  hasty 
good-byes  before  the  order  to  march  was 
given,  and  the  women  and  children  watched 
the  little  column  stride  bravely  away  up  the 
street  toward  the  armory,  where  the  uni- 
forms and  arms  were  kept.  They  followed 
at  a  little  distance  and  took  up  their  sta- 
tion across  the  street  from  the  great  doors 
through  which  the  men  had  disappeared. 
There  was  little  talking  among  them.  Only 
the  voice  of  the  priest  could  be  heard  now 
and  then,  as  he  said  a  few  words  to  one 
and  another  of  the  waiting  women.  It  was 
still  so  early  in  the  morning  that  the  streets 
of  the  city  were  not  yet  filled  with  people 

43 


going  to  work.  Only  those,  like  themselves, 
concerned  with  the  sad  business  of  war  were 
abroad. 

To  Jan  and  Marie  the  long  wait  seemed 
endless,  but  at  last  the  doors  of  the  armory 
sprang  open ;  there  was  a  burst  of  martial 
music,  and  a  band  playing  the  national 
hymn  appeared.  /'For  King,  for  law  and 
liberty ! "  thrilled  the  bugles,  and  amidst  the 
waving  of  flags,  and  the  cheers  gf  the  peo- 
ple, who  had  now  begun  to  fill  the  streets, 
a  regiment  of  soldiers  marched  away  to- 
ward the  north.  Jan  and  Marie  stood  with 
their  mother  on  the  edge  of  the  sidewalk, 
eagerly  scanning  every  face  as  the  soldiers 
passed,  and  at  last  Jan  shouted,  "  I  see 
Father !   I  see  Father !  " 

Mother  Van  Hove  lifted  her  two  children 
high  in  her  arms  for  him  to  see,  but  Father 
Van  Hove  could  only  smile  a  brave  good- 
bye as  he  marched  swiftly  past. 

'*  No  tears,  my  children! "  cried  the  priest; 
*'  let  them  see  no  tears !  Send  them  away 
with  a  smile! "   And,  standing  on  the  edge 

44 


of  the  sidewalk,  he  made  the  sign  of  the 
cross  and  raised  his  hand  in  blessing,  as 
the  troops  went  by. 

For  a  time  Mother  Van  Hove  and  the 
children  ran  along  the  sidewalk,  trying  to 
keep  pace  with  the  soldiers,  but  their  quick 
strides  were  too  much  for  the  Twins,  and 
it  was  not  long  before  Marie  said,  breath- 
lessly, '^My  legs  are  —  too  —  short!  I  — 
can't  —  run  —  so  fast!  " 

<'I  —  can't — too!"  gasped  Jan.  Mother 
Van  Hove  stopped  short  at  once,  and  the 
three  stood  still,  hand  in  hand,  and  watched 
the  soldiers  until  they  turned  a  corner  and 
disappeared  from  sight  through  the  Ant- 
werp gate  of  the  city. 

They  were  quite  alone,  for  the  oth'er 
women  and  children  had  gone  no  farther 
than  the  armory,  and  were  already  on  their 
homeward  way  to  Meer.  Now  for  the  first 
time  Mother  Van  Hove  gave  way  to  grief, 
and  Jan  and  Marie  wept  with  her ;  but  it 
was  only  for  a  moment.  Then  she  wiped 
her  eyes,  and  the  Twins'  too,  on  her  apron, 

45 


and  said  firmly :  '*  Come,  my  lambs  !  Tears 
will  not  bring  him  back  !  We  must  go  home 
now  as  fast  as  we  can.  There  is  need  there 
for  all  that  we  can  do  1  You  must  be  the 
man  of  the  house  now,  my  Janke,  and  help 
me  take  your  father's  place  on  the  farm; 
and  Marie  must  be  our  little  house-mother. 
We  must  be  as  brave  as  soldiers,  even 
though  we  cannot  fight." 

''  I  think  I  could  be  braver  if  I  had  some 
breakfast,"  sobbed  Janke. 

Mother  Van  Hove  struck  her  hands  to- 
gether in  dismay.  **  I  never  once  thought 
of  food!  "she  cried, ''and  I  haven't  a  red  cent 
with  me  !  We  cannot  buy  a  breakfast !  We 
must  just  go  hungry  until  we  get  home  !  But 
soldiers  must  often  go  hungry,  my  little 
ones.  We  must  be  as  brave  as  they.  Come, 
now.  I  will  be  the  captain !  Forward  — 
march!" 

Jan  and  Marie  stiffened  their  little  backs, 
as  she  gave  the  word  of  command,  and, 
shoulder  to  shoulder,  they  marched  down 
the  street  toward  the  city  gate  to  the  martial 

46 


refrain,  *' Le  roi,  la  loi,  la  liberte,"  which 
Mother  Van  Hove  hummed  for  them  under 
her  breath. 

It  was  a  long  way  back  to  the  little  farm- 
house, and  when  at  last  the  three  weary 
pilgrims  reached  it,  they  were  met  by  an 
indignant  chorus  of  protests  from  all  the 
creatures  which  had  been  left  behind.  Bel 
was  lowing  at  the  pasture  bars,  the  pig  was 
squealing  angrily  in  her  pen,  the  rooster  had 
crowed  himself  hoarse,  and  Fidel,  patient 
Fidel,  was  sitting  on  guard  at  the  back  door. 

Mother  Van  Hove  flew  into  the  kitchen 
the  moment  she  reached  the  house,  and  in 
two  minutes  Jan  and  Marie  were  seated 
before  a  breakfast  of  bread  and  milk.  Then 
she  fed  the  pig,  let  out  the  hens,  and  gave 
Fidel  a  bone  which  she  had  saved  for  him 
from  the  soup.  Last  of  all,  she  milked  the 
cow,  and  when  this  was  done,  and  she  had 
had  a  cup  of  coffee  herself,  the  clock  in  the 
steeple  struck  twelve. 

Even  Mother  Van  Hove's  strength  was 
not  equal  to  work  in  the  harvest-field  that 

47 


day,  but  she  stowed  the  load  of  wheat  which 
had  been  brought  home  the  night  before 
in  the  barn,  and,  after  the  chores  were  done 
at  night,  she  and  the  Twins  went  straight  to 
bed  and  slept  as  only  the  very  weary  can, 
until  the  sun  streamed  into  their  windows 
in  the  morning. 


V 

DOING  A  MAN'S  WORK 


DOING  A  y.AN'S  WORK 

When  Jan  and  Marie  awoke,  their  mother  s 
bed  was  empty.  ''She's  gone  to  milk  the 
cow,"  cried  Marie.  ''Come,  Jan,  we  will 
surprise  her!  When  she  comes  back  from 
the  pasture,  we  will  have  breakfast  all 
ready." 

"  You  can,"  said  Jan,  as  he  struggled  into 
his  clothes,  and  twisted  himself  nearly  in 
two  trying  to  do  up  the  buttons  in  the  back ; 
*'you  can,  but  I  must  do  a  man's  work!  I 
will  go  out  and  feed  the  pig  and  catch  old 
Pier  and  hitch  him  to  the  cart,"  he  said  im- 
portantly. "  I  must  finish  the  wheat  harvest 
to-day." 

"Ho!"  said  Marie.  "You  will  spill  the 
pig-feed  all  over  yourself !  You  are  such  a 
messy  boy !  " 

"  I  guess  I  can  do  it  just  as  well  as 
SI 


you  can  make  coffee,"  said  Jan  with  spirit. 
"You  Ve  never  made  coffee  in  your  life  I  " 

*'  I've  watched  Mother  do  it  lots  of  times," 
said  Marie.  '*  I  'm  sure  I  can  do  it  just  the 
same  way." 

*'  All  right,  let 's  see  you  do  it,  then,"  said 
Jan.  And  he  strode  out  of  the  room  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets,  taking  as  long  steps 
as  his  short  legs  would  permit. 

When  she  was  dressed  and  washed, 
Marie  ran  to  the  pump  and  filled  the  kettle. 
Then  she  stirred  the  embers  of  the  fire  in 
the  kitchen  and  put  on  fresh  coal.  She  set 
the  kettle  on  to  boil  and  only  slopped  a  little 
water  on  her  apron  in  doing  so.  Then  she 
put  the  dishes  on  the  table. 

Meanwhile  she  heard  no  sound  from  Jan. 
She  went  to  the  kitchen  door  and  looked 
out.  Jan  had  already  let  out  the  fowls,  and 
was  just  in  the  act  of  feeding  the  pig.  He 
had  climbed  up  on  the  fence  around  the  pig- 
pen, and  by  dint  of  great  effort  had  suc- 
ceeded in  lifting  the  heavy  pail  of  feed  to  the 
top  of  it.  He  was  now  trying  to  let  it  down 

52 


on  the  other  side  and  pour  the  contents  into 
the  trough,  but  the  pig  was  greedy,  and  the 
moment  the  pail  came  within  reach,  she 
stuck  her  nose  and  her  fore  feet  into  it.  This 
added  weight  was  too  much  for  poor  Jan ; 
down  went  the  pail  with  a  crash  into  the 
trough,  and  Jan  himself  tumbled  suddenly 
forward,  his  feet  flew  out  behind,  and  he 

S3 


was  left  hanging  head  down,  Hke  a  jack- 
knife,  over  the  fence ! 

It  was  just  at  this  moment  that  Marie 
came  to  the  door,  and  when  she  saw  Jan 
balancing  on  the  fence  and  kicking  out 
wildly  with  his  feet,  she  screamed  with 
laughter. 

Jan  was  screaming,  too,  but  with  pain  and 
indignation.  ''Come  here  and  pick  me  off 
this  fence!"  he  roared;  '*it  's  cutting  me  in 
two!  Oh,  Mother!   Mother!" 

Marie  ran  to  the  pigpen,  as  fast  as  she 
could  go.  She  snatched  an  old  box  by  the 
stable  as  she  ran,  and,  placing  it  against 
the  fence,  seized  one  of  Jan's  feet,  which 
were  still  waving  wildly  in  the  air,  and 
planted  it  firmly  on  the  box. 

''  Oh  !  Oh  !  "  laughed  Marie,  as  Jan 
reached  the  ground  once  more.  **  If  you 
could  only  have  seen  yourself,  Jan !  You 
would  have  laughed,  too  !  Instead  of  pour- 
ing the  pig-feed  on  to  yourself,  you  poured 
yourself  on  to  the  pig-feed!  " 

*'  I  don't  see  anything  to  laugh  at,"  said 
54 


Jan  with  dignity;  "it  might  have  happened 
to  any  man." 

''Anyway,  you'll  have  to  get  the  pail 
again,"  said  Marie,  wiping  her  eyes.  *'  That 
greedy  pig  will  bang  it  all  to  pieces,  if  you 
leave  it  in  the  pen." 

*'  I  can't  reach  it,"  said  Jan. 

"Yes,  you  can,"  said  Marie.  "I  '11  hold 
your  legs  so  you  won't  fall  in,  and  you  can 

55 


fish  for  it  with  a  stick."  She  ran  for  a  stick 
to  poke  with,  while  Jan  bravely  mounted 
the  box  again,  and,  firmly  anchored  by 
Marie's  grasp  upon  his  legs,  he  soon  suc- 
ceeded in  rescuing  the  pail. 

*' Anyway,  I  guess  I  've  fed  the  pig  just 
as  well  as  you  have  made  the  coffee,"  he 
said,  as  he  handed  it  over  to  Marie. 

*'Oh,  my  sakes!"  cried  Marie;  "I  for- 
got all  about  the  coffee !  "  And  she  ran  back 
to  the  kitchen,  to  find  that  the  kettle  had 
boiled  over  and  put  the  fire  out. 

Jan  stuck  his  head  in  the  door,  just  as 
she  got  the  bellows  to  start  the  fire  again. 
"  What'  did  I  tell  you  !  "  he  shouted,  run- 
ning out  his  tongue  derisively. 

**Scat!"  said  Marie,  shaking  the  bel- 
lows at  him,  and  Jan  sauntered  away  to- 
ward the  pasture  with  Pier's  halter  over  his 
arm. 

Pier  had  been  eating  grass  for  two  nights 
and  a  day  without  doing  any  work,  and  it 
took  Jan  some  time  to  catch  him  and  put 
the  halter  over  his  head.  When  at  last  he 


returned  from  the  pasture,  red  and  tired, 
but  triumphant,  leading  Pier,  Marie  and  her 
mother  had  already  finished  their  breakfast. 

"  Look  what  a  man  we  have  !  "  cried 
Mother  Van  Hove  as  Jan  appeared.  "  He 
has  caught  Pier  all  by  himself." 

'*  He  lifted  me  clear  off  my  feet  when  I 
put  his  halter  on,"  said  Jan  proudly,  "but 
I  hung  on  and  he  had  to  come !  " 

"  Marie,"  cried  her  mother,  "our  Jan  has 
earned  a  good  breakfast !  Cook  an  egg  for 
him,  while  I  hitch  Pier  to  the  cart.  Then, 
while  he  and  I  work  in  the  field,  you  can 
put  the  house  in  order.  There  is  only  one 
more  load  to  bring  in,  and  we  can  do  that 
by  ourselves." 

By  noon  the  last  of  the  wheat  had  been 
garnered,  and  this  time  Jan  drove  Pier 
home,  while  his  mother  sat  on  the  load. 
In  the  afternoon  the  three  unloaded  the 
wagon  and  stowed  the  grain  away  in  the 
barn  to  be  threshed ;  and  when  the  long 
day's  work  was  over,  and  they  had  eaten 
their  simple   supper   of   bread   and   milk, 

57 


Mother  Van  Hove  and  the  children  went 
together  down  the  village  street  to  see  their 
neighbors  and  hear  the  news,  if  there  should 
be  any. 

There  were  no  daily  papers  in  Meer,  and 
now  there  were  no  young  men  to  go  to  the 
city  and  bring  back  the  gossip  of  the  day, 
as  there  had  used  to  be.  The  women,  with 
their  babies  on  their  arms,  stood  about  in 
the  street,  talking  quietly  and  sadly  among 
themselves.  On  the  doorsteps  a  few  old  men 
lingered  together  over  their  pipes.  Already 
the  bigger  boys  were  playing  soldier,  with 
paper  caps  on  their  heads,  and  sticks  for 
guns.  The  smaller  children  were  shouting 
and  chasing  each  other  through  the  little 
street  of  the  village.  Jan  and  Marie  joined 
in  a  game  of  blindman's  buff,  while  Mother 
Van  Hove  stopped  with  the  group  of 
women. 

*' If  we  only  knew  what  to  expect!" 
sighed  the  Burgomeister's  wife,  as  she 
shifted  her  baby  from  one  arm  to  the  other. 
**  It  seems  as  if  we  should  know  better  what 

58 


to  do.  In  a  day  or  two  I  shall  send  my  big 
boy  Leon  to  the  city  for  a  paper.  It  is  hard 
to  wait  quietly  and  know  nothing." 

'VOiir  good  King  and  Queen  doubtless 
know  everything,"  said  the  wife  of  Boer 
Maes.  ''  They  will  do  better  for  us  than  we 
could  do  for  ourselves,  even  if  we  knew  all 
that  they  do." 

*'And  there  are  our  own  brave  men, 
59 


besides,"  added  Mother  Van  Hove.  '*We 
must  not  forget  them !  We  are  not  yet  at 
war.  I  pray  God  we  may  not  be,  and  that 
we  shall  soon  see  them  come  marching 
home  again  to  tell  us  that  the  trouble,  what- 
ever it  is,  is  over,  and  that  we  may  go  on 
living  in  peace  as  we  did  before." 

"It  seems  a  year  since  yesterday,"  said 
the  Burgomeister's  wife. 

''Work  makes  the  time  pass  quickly," 
said  Mother  Van  Hove  cheerfully.  "Jan 
and  I  got  in  the  last  of  our  wheat  to-day. 
He  helped  me  like  a  man." 

"  Who  will  thresh  it  for  you  ?  "  asked  the 
wife  of  Boer  Maes. 

"  I  will  thresh  it  myself,  if  need  be,"  said 
Mother  Van  Hove  with  spirit.  "  My  good 
man  shall  not  come  home  and  find  the  farm- 
work  behind  if  I  can  help  it."  And  with 
these  brave  words  she  said  good-night  to 
the  other  women,  called  Jan  and  Marie,  and 
turned  once  more  down  the  street  toward 
the  little  house  on  the  edge  of  the  village. 
Far  across  the  peaceful  twilight  fields  came 

60 


the  sound  of  distant  bells.  ''Hark!"  said 
Mother  Van  Hove  to  the  Twins  —  ''the 
cathedral  bells  of  Malines !  And  they  are 
playing  '  The'  Lion  of  Flanders  ! '  " 


i 


f^ 


-^- 


^- 


4^ 


^. 


■it=sz 


-<s- 


I 


m 


sang  the  bells,  and,  standing  upon  the 
threshold  of  her  little  home,  with  head  held 
proudly  erect,  Mother  Van  Hove  lifted  her 
voice  and  joined  the  words  to  the  melody. 
"They  will  nev.er  conquer  him,  the  old 
Lion  of  Flanders,  so  long  as  he  has  claws !  " 
she  sang,  and  the  Twins,  looking  up  into 
her  brave  and  inspired  face,  sang  too. 


VI 
AT  THE  CHURCH 


VI 

AT  THE  CHURCH 

Several  days  passed  quietly  by  in  the  lit- 
tle village  of  Meer.  The  sun  shone,  and 
the  wind  blew,  and  the  rains  fell  upon  the 
peaceful  fields,  just  as  if  nothing  whatever 
had  happened.  Each  day  was  filled  to  the 
brim  with  hard  work.  With  the  help  of  the 
Twins,  Mother  Van  Hove  kept  the  garden 
free  of  weeds  and  took  care  of  the  stock. 
She  even  threshed  the  wheat  herself  with 
her  husband's  flail,  and  stored  the  grain 
away  in  sacks  ready  for  the  mill.  Each 
evening,  when  the  work  was  done,  the  three 
went  down  the  village  street  together.  One 
evening,  just  at  dusk,  they  found  nearly  the 
whole  village  gathered  in  front  of  the  priest's 
house  next  to  the  church.  Leon,  the  Bur- 
gomeister's  oldest  boy,  had  been  to  Malines 
that  day  and  had  brought  back  a  paper. 

65 


The  priest  was  reading  from  it  to  the 
anxious  group  gathered  about  him.  *'0h, 
my  children,"  he  was  saying,  as  Mother 
Van  Hove  and  the  Twins  joined  the  group, 
**  there  is,  no  doubt,  need  for  courage,  but 
where  is  there  a  Belgian  lacking  in  that  ? 
Even  Julius  Caesar,  two  thousand  years 
ago,  found  that  out !  The  bravest  of  all  are 
the  Belgians,  he  said  then,  and  it  is  none 
the  less  true  to-day !  The  Germans  have 
crossed  our  eastern  frontier.  It  is  reported 
that  they  are  already  burning  towns  and 
killing  the  inhabitants  if  they  resist.  God 
knows  what  may  be  before  us.  Our  good 
King  Albert  has  asked  Parliament  to  refuse 
the  demands  of  the  Germans.  In  spite  of 
their  solemn  treaty  with  us,  they  demand 
that  we  permit  them  to  cross  Belgium  to 
attack  France.  To  this  our  brave  King  and 
Parliament  will  never  consent ;  no  true  Bel- 
gian would  wish  them  to.  There  is,  then, 
this  choice  —  either  to  submit  absolutely  to 
the  invasion  of  our  country,  or  to  defend  it  I 
The  army  is  already  in  the  field." 

66 


There  was  a  moment  of  heavy  silence  as 
he  finished  speaking.  Then  the  voice  of  the 
Burgomeister's  wife  was  heard  in  the  still- 
ness. **0h,  Mynheer  Pastoor,"  she  said  to 
the  priest,  ''what  shall  we  do?  There  is  no 
place  to  go  to — we  have  no  refuge!  " 

''  God  is  our  refuge  and  strength,  my 
children,"  said  the  priest,  Hfting  his  eyes  to 
heaven.  ''We  have  no  other!  You  must 
stay  here,  and  if  the  terrible  Germans  come, 
hide  yourselves  away  as  best  you  can,  until 
they  have  passed  by.  Do  not  anger  them 
by  resisting.  Bow  your  heads  to  the  storm 
and  have  faith  in  God  that  it  may  soon  pass 
over."  He  turned  and  led  the  way  toward 
the  little  church  as  he  spoke.  "Come,"  he 
said,  "let  us  pray  before  God's  holy  altar, 
and  if  the  enemy  comes,  seek  refuge  in  the 
church  itself.  Surely  even  the  Germans  will 
respect  the  sanctuary." 

Solemnly  the  people  filed  into  the  little 
church,  lighted  only  by  the  candles  on  the 
altar,  and  knelt  upon  the  hard  floor.  The 
priest  left  them  there,  praying  silently,  while 

67 


he  went  to  put  on  the  robes  of  his  office. 
Then  once  more  he  appeared  before  the 
altar,  and  led  the  kneeling  congregation  in 
the  litany. 

''  From  war  and  pestilence  and  sudden 
death,  Good  Lord,  deliver  us,"  he  prayed 
at  last,  and  all  the  people  responded  with  a 
fervent  ''Amen." 

That  night,  when  she  put  her  children  to 
bed,  Mother  Van  Hove  fastened  a  chain 
with  a  locket  upon  it  about  Marie's  neck. 
*'  Listen,  ma  Mie,"  she  said,  ''  and  you,  too, 
my  little  Jan.  God  only  knows  what  may 
be  before  us.  This  locket  contains  my  pic- 
ture. You  must  wear  it  always  about  your 
neck,  and  remember  that  your  mother  s 
name  is  Leonie  Van  Hove,  and  your  father's 
name  is  Georges  Van  Hove.  If  by  any 
chance  —  which  God  forbid  —  we  should 
become  separated  from  one  another,  keep 
the  locket  on  your  neck,  and  our  names  in 
your  memory  until  we  meet  again;  for  if 
such  a  thing  should  happen,  do  not  doubt 
that  I  should  find  you,  though  I  had  to  swim 

68 


the  sea  to  do  it!  For  you,  my  Jan,  I  have 
no  locket,  but  you  are  a  man,  a  brave  man, 
now  !  You  must  take  care  of  yourself  and 
your  sister,  too,  if  need  should  arise,  and 
above  all,  remember  this — only  the  brave 
are    safe.    Whatever    happens,    you    must 

69 


remember  that  you  are  Belgians,  and  be 
brave!" 

The  children  clung  to  her,  weeping,  as  she 
finished.  **  There,  there,"  she  said  sooth- 
ingly: "I  had  to  tell  you  this  so  you  would 
be  ready  to  do  your  best  and  not  despair, 
whatever  might  happen,  but  be  sure,  my 
lambs,  nothing  shall  harm  you  if  I  can  help 
it,  and  nothing  shall  separate  us  from  one 
another  if  God  so  wills.  Now,  go  to  sleep  I " 

She  kissed  them  tenderly,  and,  quite 
comforted,  they  nestled  down  in  their  beds 
and  soon  were  asleep.  She  herself  slept  but 
little  that  night.  Long  after  the  children 
were  quiet,  she  sat  alone  on  the  kitchen 
step  in  the  darkness  with  Fidel  by  her  side, 
and  listened  to  the  faint  sounds  of  distant 
guns,  and  watched  the  red  light  in  the  sky, 
which  told  her  of  the  burning  of  Louvain. 


VII 

THE  TIDAL  WAVE  OF 
GERMANS 


VII 

THE  TIDAL  WAVE  OF 
GERMANS 

The  next  morning  dawned  bright  and  clear, 
and  Mother  Van  Hove  and  the  Twins  went 
about  their  work  as  usual.  The  sunshine 
was  so  bright,  and  the  whole  countryside 
looked  so  peaceful  and  fair,  it  was  impos- 
sible to  believe  that  the  terrors  of  the  night 
could  be  true. 

/'To-day  we  must  begin  to  gather  the 
potatoes,"  said  Mother  Van  Hove  after 
breakfast.  *'Jan,  you  get  the  fork  and  hoe 
and  put  them  in  the  wagon,  while  I  milk 
the  cow  and  Marie  puts  up  some  bread 
and  cheese  for  us  to  take  to  the  field."  She 
started  across  the  road  to  the  pasture,  with 
Fidel  at  her  heels,  as  she  spoke.  In  an  in- 
stant she  was  back  again,  her  eyes  wide 
with  horror.   "  Look  !  Look  !  "  she  cried. 

73 


The  dazed  children  looked  toward  the 
east  as  she  pointed.  There  in  the  distance, 
advancing  like  a  great  tidal  wave,  was  a 
long  gray  line  of  soldiers  on  horseback.  Al- 
ready they  could  hear  the  sound  of  music 
and  the  throb  of  drums ;  already  the  sun 
glistened  upon  the  shining  helmets  and  the 
cruel  points  of  bayonets.  The  host  stretched 
away  across  the  plain  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  and  behind  them  the  sky  was  thick 
with  the  smoke  of  fires. 

''The  church!  the  church!"  cried  Mother 
Van  Hove.  ''  No,  there  is  not  time.  Hide 
in  here,  my  darlings.    Quickly  I  Quickly!" 

She  tore  open  the  door  of  the  earth- 
covered  vegetable  cellar  as  she  spoke,  and 
thrust  Jan  and  Marie  inside.  Fidel  bolted 
in  after  them.  ''Do  not  move  or  make  a 
sound  until  all  is  quiet  again,"  she  cried  as 
she  closed  the  door. 

There  was  not  room  for  her  too,  in  tiie 
cellar,  and  if  there  had  been.  Mother  Van 
Hove  would  not  have  taken  it,  for  it  was 
necessary  to  close  the  door  from  the  out- 

74 


side.  This  she  did,  hastily,  throwing  some 
straw  before  it.  Then  she  rushed  into  the 
house  and,  snatching  up  her  shining  milk- 
pans,  flung  them  upon  the  straw,  as  if  they 
were  placed  there  to  be  sweetened  by  the 
sun.  No  one  would  think  to  look  under  a 
pile  of  pans  for  hidden  Belgians,  she  felt 
sure. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  hosts,  and 
75 


now  she  could  hear  the  sound  of  singing 
as  from  ten  thousand  brazen  throats. 
**  Deutschland,  Deutschland  liber  Alles," 
roared  the  mighty  chorus,  and  in  another 
moment  the  Httle  village  of  Meer  was  sub- 
merged in  the  terrible  gray  flood. 

At  last,  after  what  seemed  to  the  im- 
prisoned children  like  a  year  of  darkness 
and  dread,  and  of  strange,  terrifying  noises 
of  all  kinds,  the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs  and 
marching  feet  died  away  in  the  distance, 
and  Jan  ventured  to  push  open  the  door  of 
the  cavern  a  crack,  just  intending  to  peep 
out.  Immediately  there  was  a  crash  of  fall- 
ing tinware.  Jan  quickly  drew  back  again 
into  the  safe  darkness  and  waited.  As  noth- 
ing further  happened,  he  peeped  out  again. 
This  time  Fidel,  springing  forward,  flung 
the  doors  wide  open,  and  dashed  out  into 
the  sunshine  with  a  joyous  bark. 

In  a  moment  more  Jan  and  Marie  also 
crawled  out  of  their  hiding-place  after  him. 
For  an  instant,  as  they  came  out  into  the 
daylight,  it  seemed  to  the  children  as  if 

76 


they  had  awakened  from  a  dreadful  dream. 
There  stood  the  farmhouse  just  as  before, 
with  the  kitchen  door  wide  open  and  the 
sun  streaming  in  upon  the  sanded  floor. 
There  were  only  the  marks  of  many  feet 
in  the  soft  earth  of  the  farmyard,  an  empty 
pigpen,  and  a  few  chicken  feathers  blowing 
about  the  henhouse,  to  show  where  the  in- 
vaders had  been  and  what  they  had  carried 
away  with  them.  Jan  and  Marie,  followed 
by  Fidel,  ran  through  the  house.  From  the 
front  door,  which  opened  on  the  road,  they 
could  see  the  long  gray  line  sweeping  across 
the  fields  toward  Malines. 

**The  storm  has  passed,"  cried  Marie, 
sobbing  with  grief,  **  just  as  Mynheer  Pas- 
toor  said  it  would !  Mother!  Mother,  where 
are  you?"  They  ran  from  kitchen  to  bed- 
room and  back  again,  their  terror  increas- 
ing at  every  step,  as  no  voice  answered 
their  call.  They  searched  the  cellar  and  the 
loft;  they  looked  in  the  stable  and  barn, 
and  even  in  the  dog-house.  Their  mother 
was  nowhere  to  be  found ! 

77 


**  I  know  where  she  must  be,"  cried  Jan, 
at  last.  ''  You  know  Mynheer  Pastoor  said, 
if  anything  happened,  we  should  hide  in 
the  church."  Led  by  this  hope,  the  two 
children  sped,  hand  in  hand,  toward  the 
village.  **  Bel  is  gone ! "  gasped  Jan,  as  they 
passed  the  pasture  bars.  '  *  Pier,  too, ' '  sobbed 
Marie.  Down  the  whole  length  of  the  de- 
serted village  street  they  flew,  with  Fidel 
following  close  at  their  heels.  When  they 
came  to  the  little  church,  they  burst  open 
the  door  and  looked  in.  The  cheerful  sun 
streamed  through  the  windows,  falling  in 
brilliant  patches  of  light  upon  the  floor,  but 
the  church  was  silent  and  empty.  It  was 
some  time  before  they  could  realize  that 
there  was  not  a  human  being  but  them- 
selves in  the  entire  village;  all  the  others 
had  been  driven  away  like  sheep,  before 
the  invading  army.  When  at  last  the  terri- 
ble truth  dawned  upon  them,  the  two  fright- 
ened children  sat  down  upon  the  church 
steps  in  the  silence,  and  clung,  weeping,  to 
each  other.    Fidel  whined  and  licked  their 

78 


hands,  as  though  he,  too,  understood  and 
felt  their  loneHness. 

**  What  shall  we  do?  What  shall  we  do?" 
moaned  Marie. 

** There  's  nobody  to  tell  us  what  to  do," 
sobbed  Jan.  *'  We  must  just  do  thie  best  we 
can  by  ourselves." 

'*  We  can't  stay  here  alone  !  "  said  Marie. 

''But  where  can  we  go?"  cried  Jan. 
"There's  no  place  for  us  to  go  to!  " 

For  a  few  minutes  the  two  children  wept 
their  hearts  out  in  utter  despair,  but  hope 

79 


always  comes  when  it  is  most  needed,  and 
soon  Marie  raised  her  head  and  wiped  her 
eyes. 

**  Don't  you  remember  what  Mother  said 
when  she  put  the  locket  on  my  neck,  Jan?  " 
she  asked.  ''She  said  that  she  would  find 
us,  even  if  she  had  to  swim  the  sea !  She 
said  no  matter  what  happened  we  should 
never  despair,  and  here  we  are  despairing 
as  hard  as  ever  we  can." 

Jan  threw  up  his  chin,  and  straightened 
his  back.  "Yes,"  he  said,  swallowing  his 
sobs,  *'and  she  said  I  was  now  a  man  and 
must  take  care  of  myself  and  you." 

'*  What  shall  we  do,  then  ?  "  asked  Marie. 

Jan  thought  hard  for  a  moment.  Then  he 
said:  "  Eat!  It  must  be  late,  and  we  have 
not  had  a  mouthful  to-day." 

Marie  stood  up.  ''Yes,"  said  she;  "we 
must  eat.  Let  us  go  back  home." 

The  clock  in  the  steeple  struck  eleven  as 
the  two  children  ran  once  more  through  thje 
deserted  street  and  began  a  search  for  food 
in  their  empty  house. 

So 


They  found  that  the  invaders  had  been 
as  thorough  within  the  house  as  without. 
Not  only  had  they  carried  away  the  grain 
which  their  mother  had  worked  so  hard  to 
thresh,  but  they  had  cleaned  the  cupboard 
as  well.  The  hungry  children  found  nothing 
but  a  few  crusts  of  bread,  a  bit  of  cheese, 
and  some  milk  in  the  cellar,  but  with  these 
and  two  eggs,  which  Jan  knew  where  to 
look  for  in  the  straw  in  the  barn,  they  made 
an  excellent  breakfast.  They  gave  Fidel  the 
last  of  the  milk,  and  then,  much  refreshed, 
made  ready  to  start  upon  a  strange  and 
lonely  journey  the  end  of  which  they  did 
not  know.  They  tied  their  best  clothes  in 
a  bijndle,  which  Jan  hung  upon  a  stick  over 
his  shoulder,  and  were  just  about  to  leave 
the  house,  when  Marie  cried  out,  **  Suppose 
Mother  should  come  back  and  find  us  gone  1 " 

**We  must  leave  word  where  we  have 
gone,  so  she  will  know  where  to  look  for 
us,  of  course,"  Jan  answered  capably. 

**Yes,  but  how?"  persisted  Marie. 
''  There  's  no  one  to  leave  word  with !  " 

8i 


This  was  a  hard  puzzle,  but  Jan  soon 
found  a  way  out.  ''We  must  write  a  note 
and  pin  it  up  where  she  would  be  sure  to 
find  it,"  he  said. 

*'The  very  thing,"  said  Marie. 

They  found  a  bit  of  charcoal  and  a  piece 
of  wrapping-paper,  and  Jan  was  all  ready 
to  write  when  a  new  difficulty  presented  it- 
self. "What  shall  I  say?"  he  said  to  Marie. 
*'We  don't  know  where  we  are  going  I " 

82 


"We  don't  know  the  way  to  any  place 
but  Malines,"  said  Marie;  "so  we  '11  have 
to  go  there,  I  suppose." 

**How  do  you  spell  Malines?"  asked 
Jan,  charcoal  in  hand. 

'*Oh,  you  stupid  boy!"  cried  Marie. 
"M-a-1-i-n-e-s,  of  course!" 

Jan  put  the  paper  down  on  the  kitchen 
floor  and  got  down  before  it  on  his  hands 
and  knees.  He  had  not  yet  learned  to  write, 
but  he  managed  to  print  upon  it  in  great 
staggering  letters :  — 

-DEAR  MOTHER  — 

WE  HAVE  GONE  TO  MALINES 
TO  FIND  YOU. 

JAN  AND  MARIE." 

This  note  they  pinned  upon  the  inside  of 
the  kitchen  door. 

**Now  we  are  ready  to  start,"  said  Jan; 
and,  calling  Fidel,  the  two  children  set  forth. 
They  took  a  short  cut  from  the  house  across 
the  pasture  to  the  potato-field.  Here  they 
dug  a  few  potatoes,  which  they  put  in  their 

83 


bundle,  and  then,  avoiding  the  road,  sHpped 
down  to  the  river,  and,  following  the  stream, 
made  their  way  toward  Malines. 

It  was  fortunate  for  them  that,  screened 
by  the  bushes  and  trees  which  fringed  the 
bank  of  the  river,  they  saw  but  little  of 
the  ruin  and  devastation  left  in  the  wake 
of  the  German  hosts.  There  w^ere  farmers 
who  had  tried  to  defend  their  families  and 
homes  from  the  invaders.  Burning  houses 
and  barns  marked  the  places  where  they 
had  lived  —  and  died.  But  the  children, 
thinking  only  of  their  lost  mother,  and  of 
keeping  themselves  as  much  out  of  sight  as 
possible  in  their  search  for  her,  were  spared 
most  of  these  horrors.  Their  progress  was 
slow,  for  the  bundle  was  heavy,  and  the 
river  path  less  direct  than  the  road,  and  it 
was  nightfall  before  the  two  little  waifs, 
with  Fidel  at  their  heels,  reached  the  well- 
remembered  Brussels  gate. 

Their  hearts  almost  stopped  beating  when 
they  found  it  guarded  by  a  German  soldier. 
**  Who  goes  there  ?  "  demanded  the  guard 

84 


gruffly,  as  he  caught  sight  of  the  Httle  fig- 
ures. 

"  If  you  please,  sir,  it's  Jan  and  Marie,*' 
said  Jan,  shaking  in  his  boots. 

''And  Fidel,  too,"  said  Marie. 

The  soldier  bent  down  and  looked  closely 
at  the  two  tear-stained  little  faces.  It  may 
be  that  some  remembrance  of  other  little 
faces  stirred  within  him,  for  he  only  said 
stiffly,  "  Pass,  Jan  aad  Marie,  and  you,  too, 
Fidel."  And  the  two  children  and  the  dog 
hurried  through  the  gate  and  up  the  first 
street  they  came  to,  their  bundle  bumping 
along  behind  them  as  they  ran. 

The  city  seemed  strangely  silent  and  de- 
serted, except  for  the  gray-clad  soldiers, 
and  armed  guards  blocked  the  way  at  in- 
tervals. Taught  by  fear,  Jan  and  Marie 
soon  learned  to  slip  quietly  along  under 
cover  of  the  gathering  darkness,  and  to 
dodge  into  a  doorway  or  round  a  corner, 
when  they  came  too  near  one  of  the  stiff, 
helmeted  figures. 

At  last,  after  an  hour  of  aimless  wander- 
8s 


ing,  they  found  themselves  in  a  large,  open 
square,  looking  up  at  the  tall  cathedral 
spires.  A  German  soldier  came  suddenly 
out  of  the  shadows,  and  the  frightened  chil- 
dren, scarcely  knowing  what  they  did,  ran 
up  the  cathedral  steps  and  flung  themselves 
against  the  door.  When  the  soldier  had 
passed  by,  they  reached  cautiously  up,  and 
by  dint  of  pulling  with  their  united  strength 
succeeded  at  last  in  getting  the  door  open. 
They  thrust  their  bundle  inside,  pushed 
Fidel  in  after  it,  and  then  slipped  through 
themselves.  The  great  door  closed  behind 
them  on  silent  hinges  and  they  were  alone  in 
the  vast  stillness  of  the  cathedral.  Timidly 
they  crept  toward  the  lights  of  the  altar,  and, 
utterly  exhausted,  slept  that  night  on  the 
floor  near  the  statue  of  the  Madonna,  with 
their  heads  pillowed  on  Fidel's  shaggy  side. 


VIII 
GRANNY  AND  THE  EELS 


I  I 


I  > 


VIII 

GRANNY  AND  THE  EELS 

When  the  cathedral  bells  rang  the  next 
morning  for  early  mass,  the  children  were 
still  sleeping  the  sleep  of  utter  exhaustion. 
It  was  not  until  the  bells  had  ceased  to 
ring,  and  the  door,  opening  from  the  sac- 
risty near  their  resting-place,  creaked  upon 
its  hinges,  that  even  Fidel  was  aroused. 
True  to  his  watchdog  instincts,  he  started 
to  his  feet  with  a  low  growl,  letting  the 
heads  of  Jan  and  Marie  down  upon  the 
floor  with  a  sudden  bump.  For  an  instant 
the  awakened  children  could  not  remember 
where  they  were  or  what  had  happened  to 
them.  They  sat  up  and  rubbed  their  heads, 
but  the  habit  of  fear  was  already  so  strong 
upon  them  that  they  made  no  sound  and 
instantly  quieted  Fidel.  Again  the  door 
creak^d^  and  through  it  there  appeared  a 

89 


tall  figure  dressed  in  priestly  robes.  The 
children  were  so  near  that  had  they  thrust 
•  their  hands  through  the  railing  of  the  com- 
munion banc  behind  which  they  were  con- 
cealed, they  might  have  touched  him  as  he 
passed  before  the  altar  of  the  Virgin  and 
presented  himself  in  front  of  the  high  altar 
to  conduct  the  mass.  His  head,  as  he  passed 
them,  was  bowed.  His  face  was  pale  and 
thin,  and  marked  with  lines  of  deep  sorrow. 

'*  Oh,"  whispered  Marie  to  Jan,  ''  it  must 
be  the  Cardinal  himself.  Mother  told  me 
about  him." 

The  whisper  made  such  a  loud  sound  in 
the  silence  of  the  great  cathedral  aisles  that 
Jan  was  afraid  to  reply.  For  answer  he  only 
laid  his  finger  upon  his  lips  and  crept  still 
farther  back  into  the  shadow.  Fidel  seemed 
to  know  that  dogs  were  not  allowed  in 
church  and  that  it  was  necessary  for  him 
to  be  quiet,  too,  for  he  crawled  back 
with  the  children  into  the  sheltering  dark- 
ness. 

There  were  only  a  few  persons  in  the  ca- 
90 


thedral,  and  those  few  were  near  the  door; 
so  no  one  saw  the  children  as  they  knelt 
with  folded  hands  and  bowed  heads  in  their 
corner,  reverently  following  the  service  as 
the  Cardinal  ate  the  sacred  wafer  and  drank 
the  communion  wine  before  the  altar.  Later 
they  were  to  know  his  face  as  the  bravest 
and  best  beloved  in  all  Belgium  next  to 
those  of  the  King  and  Queen  themselves. 

When  again  he  passed  the  kneeling  little 
figures  on  his  return  to  the  sacristy,  their 
lonely  hearts  so  ached  for  care  and  protec- 
tion, and  his  face  looked  so  kind  and  piti- 
ful, that  they  almost  dared  to  make  their 
presence  known  and  to  ask  for  the  help 
they  sorely  needed.  Marie,  bolder  than 
Jan,  half  rose  as  he  passed,  but  Jan  pulled 
her  back,  and  in  another  instant  the  door 
had  closed  behind  him  and  he  was  gone. 

*'Oh,"  sobbed  Marie  under  her  breath, 
**  he  looked  so  kind  !  He  might  have  helped 
us.  Why  did  you  pull  me  back  ?  " 

''  How  could  we  let  him  see  Fidel,  and 
tell  him  that  our  dog  had  slept  all  night  be- 

91 


fore  the  altar?"  answered  Jan.  **I  shouldn't 
dare  !  He  is  a  great  Prince  of  the  Church  !  " 
The  sound  of  scraping  chairs  told  them 
that  the  little  congregation  had  risen  from 
its  knees  and  was  passing  out  of  the  church. 
They  waited  until  every  one  had  disap- 
peared through  the  great  door,  and  then 
made  a  swift  flight  down  the  echoing  aisle 
and  out  into  the  sunlight.  For  a  moment 
they  stood  hand  in  hand  upon  the  cathedral 
steps,  clasping  their  bundle  and  waiting  for 
the  next  turn  of  fortune's  wheel. 

92 


The  bright  sunhght  of  the  summer  day, 
shining  on  the  open  square,  almost  bhnded 
them,  and  what  they  saw  in  the  square, 
when  their  eyes  had  become  used  to  it,  did 
not  comfort  them.  Everywhere  there  were 
German  soldiers  with  their  terrible  bayo- 
nets and  pointed  helmets  and  their  terrible 
songs.  Everywhere  there  were  pale  and 
desperate  Belgians  fleeing  before  the  arro- 
gant German  invader. 

*'0h,    Jan,"   whispered    Marie   clinging 
to  him,  "there  are  so  many  people!   How 
shall  we  ever  find  Mother  ?   I  did  n't  know 
there  were  so  many  people  in  the  whole' 
world." 

"It  isn't  jikely  that  we'll  find  her  by 
just  standing  here,  anyway,"  answered  Jan. 
"  We  've  got  to  keep  going  till  we  get  some- 
where." 

He  slung  the  bundle  on  his  shoulder  and 
whistled  to  Fidel,  who  had  gone  down  the 
steps  to  bark  at  a  homeless  cat. 

"Come  along,"  he  said  to  Marie.  And 
once  more  the  little  pilgrims  took  up  their 

93 


journey.  At- the  first  corner  they. paused, 
not  knowing  whether  to  go  to  the  right  or 
to  the  left. 

** Which  way?"  said  Marie. 

Jan  stood  still  and  looked  first  in  one 
direction  and  then  in  the  other. 

'*  Here,  gutter-snipes,  what  are  you  stand- 
ing  here  for?  Make  way  for  your  betters!  " 
said  a  gruff  voice  behind  them,  and,  turn- 
ing, the  children  found  themselves  face  to 
face  with  a  German  officer  dressed  in  a  re- 
splendent uniform  and  accompanied  by  a 
group  of  swaggering  young  soldiers.  Too 
frightened  to  move,  the  children  only  looked 
up  at  him  and  did  not  stir. 

''  Get  out  of  the  way,  I  tell  you!  "  roared 
the  officer,  turning  purple  with  rage ;  —  "  Or- 
derly !  "  One  of  the  young  men  sprang  for- 
ward. He  seized  Jan  by  the  arm  and  deftly 
kicked  him  into  the  gutter.  Another  at  the 
same  moment  laid  his  hands  on  Marie.  But 
he  reckoned  without  Fidel,  faithful  Fidel, 
who  knew  no  difference  between  German 
and  Belgian,  but  knew  only  that  no  cruel 

94 


hand  should  touch  his  beloved  Marie,  while 
he  was  there  to  defend  her.  With  a  fierce 
growl  he  sprang  at  the  young  orderly  and 
buried  his  teeth  in  his  leg.  Howling  with 
pain,  the  orderly  dropped  Marie,  while  an- 
other soldier  drew  his  sword  with  an  oath 
and  made  a  thrust  at  Fidel.  Fortunately 
Fidel  was  too  quick  for  him.  He  let  go'  his 
hold  upon  the  leg  of  the  orderly,  tearing  a 
large  hole  in  his  uniform  as  he  did  so,  and 
flung  himself  directly  between  the  legs  of 
the  other  soldier  who  was  lunging  at  him 
with  the  sword.  The  next  instant  the 
surprised  German  found  himself  sprawling 
upon  the  sidewalk,  and  saw  Fidel,  who  had 
escaped  without  a  scratch,  dashing  wildly 
up  the  street  after  Jan  and  Marie.  Beside 
himself  with  rage,  the  soldier  drew  a  re- 
volver and  fired  a  shot,  which  barely  missed 
Fidel,  and  buried  itself  in  the  doorstep  of 
the  house  past  which  he  was  running. 

If  Jan  and  Marie  had  not  turned  a  cor- 
ner just  at  that  moment,  and  if  Fidel  had 
not  followed  them,  there  is  no  telling  what 

95 


might  have  happened  next,  for  the  young 
soldier  was  very  angry  indeed.  Perhaps  he 
considered  it  beneath  his  dignity  to  run  af- 
ter them,  and  perhaps  he  saw  that  Jan  and 
Marie  could  both  run  like  the  wind  and  he 
would  not  be  likely  to  catch  them  if  he  did. 
At  any  rate,  he  did  not  follow.  He  picked 
himself  up  and  dusted  his  clothes,  using 
very  bad  language  as  he  did  so,  and  fol- 
lowed the  officer  and  his  companions  up 
the  street. 

Meanwhile  the  tired  children  ran  on  and 
on,  fear  lending  speed  to  their  weary  legs. 
Round  behind  the  great  cathedral  they  sped, 
hoping  to  find  some  way  of  escape  from 
the  terrors  of  the  town,  but  their  way  was 
blocked  by  the  smoking  ruins  of  a  section 
of  the  city  which  the  Germans  had  burned 
in  the  night,  and  there  was  no  way  to  get 
out  in  that  direction.  Terrified  and  faint 
with  hunger,  they  turned  once  more,  and, 
not  knowing  where  they  were  going,  stum- 
bled at  last  upon  the  street  which  led  to  the 
Antwerp  gate. 

96 


*'  I  remember  this  place,"  cried  Jan,  with 
something  Hke  joy  in  his  voice.  ''  Don't  you 
remember,  Marie?  It's  where  we  stood  to 
watch  the  soldiers,  and  Mother  sang  for  us 
to  march,  because  we  were  so  tired  and 
hungry." 

''  I  'm  tired  and  hungry  now,  too,"  said 
poor  Marie. 

*'  Let's  march  again,"  said  Jan. 

*'  Where  to  ?  "  said  Marie. 
97 


*' That's  the  way  Father  went  when  he 
marched  away  with  the  soldiers,"  said  Jan, 
pointing  to  the  Antwerp  gate.  "Anything 
is  better  than  staying  here.  Let's  go  that 
way."  He  started  bravely  forward  once 
more,  Marie  and  Fidel  following. 

They  found  themselves  only  two  wretched 
atoms  in  one  of  the  saddest  processions 
in  history,  for  there  were  many  other 
people,  as  unhappy  as  themselves,  who 
were  also  trying  to  escape  from  the  city. 
Some  had  lived  in  the  section  which  was 
now  burning ;  others  had  been  turned  out 
of  their  homes  by  the  Germans ;  and  all 
were  hastening  along,  carrying  babies  and 
bundles,  and  followed  by  groups  of  older 
children. 

Jan  and  Marie  were  swept  along  with  the 
hurrying  crowd,  through  the  city  gate  and 
beyond,  along  the  river  road  which  led  to 
Antwerp.  No  one  spoke  to  them.  Doubt- 
less they  were  supposed  to  belong  to  some 
one  of  the  fleeing  families,  and  it  was  at 
least  comforting  to  the  children  to  be  near 

98 


people  of  whom  they  were  not  afraid.  But 
Jan  and  Marie  could  not  keep  pace  with 
the  swift-moving  crowd  of  refugees.  They 
trudged  along  the  highway  at  their  best 
speed,  only  to  find  themselves  straggling 
farther  and  farther  behind. 

They  were  half  a  mile  or  more  beyond 
the  city  gate  when  they  overtook  a  queer 
little  old  woman  who  was  plodding  steadily 
along  wheeling  a  wheelbarrow  in  front  of 
her.  She  evidently  did  not  belong  among 
the  refugees,  for  she  was  making  no  effort 
to  keep  up  with  them.  She  had  bright, 
twinkling  black  eyes,  and  snow-white  hair 
tucked  away  under  a  snow-white  cap.  Her 
face  was  as  brown  as  a  nut  and  full  of 
wrinkles,  but  it  shone  with  such  kindness 
and  good-will  that,  when  Jan  and  Marie 
had  taken  one  look  at  her,  they  could  not 
help  walking  along  by  her  side. 

*' Maybe  she  has  seen  Mother,"  whis- 
pered Marie  to  Jan.   ''  Let's  ask  her!  " 

The  little  old  woman  smiled  down  at 
them  as  they  joined  her.    '*  You  '11  have  to 

99 


hurry,  my  dears,  or  you  won't  keep  up  with 
your  folks,"  she  said  kindly. 

•*  They  aren't  our  folks,"  said  Jan. 

^'They  aren't?"  said  the  little  old 
woman,  stopping  short.  ''Then  where  are 
your  folks?" 

''  We  have  n't  any  —  not  just  now,"  said 
Jan.  '*  You  see  our  father  is  a  soldier, 
and  our  mother  —  oh,  have  you  seen  our 
mother?  She's  lost!" 

The  little  old  woman  gave  them  a  quick, 
pitying  glance.  ''Lost,  is  she?"  she  said. 
"Well,  now,  I  can't  just  be  sure  whether 
I  've  seen  her  or  not,  not  knowing  what 
she  looks  like,  but  I  would  n't  say  I  have  n't. 
Lots  of  folks  have  passed  this  way.  How 
did  she  get  lost?"  She  sat  down  on  the 
edge  of  the  barrow  and  drew  the  children 
to  her  side.  "Come,  now,"  she  said,  "tell 
Granny  all  about  it !  I '  ve  seen  more  trouble 
than  any  one  you  ever  saw  in  all  your  life  be- 
fore, and  I  'm  not  a  mite  afraid  of  it  either." 

Comforted  already,  the  children  poured 
forth. their  story. 

lOO 


'*  You  poor  little  lambs ! "  she  cried,  when 
they  had  finished,  ''and  you  haven't  had 
a  bite  to  eat  since  yesterday !  Mercy  on 
us !  You  can  never  find  your  mother  on 
an  empty  stomach!"  She  rose  from  the 
wheelbarrow,  as  she  spoke,  and  trundled 
it  swiftly  from  the  road  to  the  bank  of  the 
river,  a  short  distance  away.  Here,  in  a 
sheltered  nook,  hidden  from  the  highway  by 
a  group  of  willows,  she  stopped.  "We'll 
camp  right  here,  and. I  '11  get  you  a  dinner 
fit  for  a  king  —  or  a  duke,  at  the  very  least," 
she  said  cheerily.  "  Look  what  I  have  in 
my  wheelbarrow  !  "  She  took  a  basket  from 
the  top  of  it  as  she  spoke. 

Fidel  was  already  looking  in,  with  his  ' 
tail  standing  straight  out  behind,  his  ears 
pointed  forward,  and  the  hairs  bristling  on 
the  back  of  his  neck.  There,  on  some  clean 
white  sand  in  the  bottom  of  the  wheelbar- 
row, wriggled  a  fine  fat  eel! 

*'  Now  I  know  why  I  did  n't  sell  that  eel," 
cried  Granny.  "  There  's  always  a  reason 
for  everything,  you  see,  my  darlings." 

lOI 


"^  '^y^ 


She  seized  the  eel  with  a  firm,  well- 
sanded  hand  as  she  spoke,  and  before  you 
could  spell  your  name  backwards,  she  had 
skinned  and  dressed  it,  and  had  given  the 
remnants  to  poor  hungry  Fidel.  ''  Now,  my 
boy,"  she  said  gayly  to  Jan  as  she  worked, 
'*  you  get  together  some  twigs  and  dead 
leaves,  and  you.  Big  Eyes,"  she  added  to 
Marie,  ''find  some  stones  by  the  river,  and 
we  '11  soon  have  such  a  stove  as  you  never 

102 


saw  before,  and  a  fire  in  it,  and  a  bit  of  fried 
eel,  to  fill  your  hungry  stomachs." 

Immensely  cheered,  the  children  flew  on 
these  errands.  Then  Marie  had  a  bright 
thought.  ''We  have  some  potatoes  in  our 
bundle,"  she  said. 

''Well,  now,"  cried  the  little  old  woman, 
*'  would  n't  you  think  they  had  just  followed 
up  that  eel  on  purpose?  We  '11  put  them  to 
roast  in  the  ashes.  I  always  carry  a  pan  and 
a  bit  of  fat  and  some  matches  about  with 
me  when  I  take  my  eels  to  market,"  she 
explained  as  she  whisked  these  things  out 
of  the  basket,  "and  it  often  happens  that  I 
cook  myself  a  bite  to  eat  on  my  way  home, 
especially  if  I  'm  late.  You  see,  I  live  a  long 
way  from  here,  just  across  the  river  from 
Boom,  and  I  'm  getting  lazy  in  my  old  age. 
Early  every  morning  I  walk  to  Malines 
with  my  barrow  full  of  fine  eels,  and  sell 
them  to  the  people  of  the  town.  That 's 
how  I  happen  to  be  so  rich ! " 

"Are  you  rich?"  asked  Marie  wonder- 

103 


She  had  brought  the  stones  from  the 
river,  and  now  she  untied  her  bundle  and 
took  out  the  potatoes.  Jan  had  already 
heaped  a  little  mound  of  sticks  and  twigs 
near  by,  and  soon  the  potatoes  were  cook- 
ing in  the  ashes,  and  a  most  appetizing 
smell  of  frying  eel  filled  the  air. 

**Am  I  rich?"  repeated  the  old  woman. 
She  looked  surprised  that  any  one  could 
ask  such  a  question.  ''  Of  course  I  'm  rich. 
Haven't  I  got  two  eyes  in  my  head,  and  a 
tongue,  too,  and  it's  lucky,  indeed,  that  it's 
that  way  about,  for  if  I  had  but  one  eye  and 
two  tongues,  you  see  for  yourself  how  much 
less  handy  that  would  be!  And  I've  two, 
legs  as  good  as  any  one's,  and  two  hands 
to  help  myself  with !  The  Kaiser  himself 
has  no  more  legs  and  arms  than  I,  and 
I  doubt  if  he  can  use  them  half  as  well. 
Neither  has  he  a  stomach  the  more !  And 
as  for  his  heart" — she  looked  cautiously 
around  as  she  spoke  — ''his  heart,  I'll  be 
bound,  is  not  half  so  good  as  mine!  If  it 
were,  he  could  not  find  it  in  it  to  do  all  the 

T04 


cruel  things  he  's  doing  here.  I  'm  sure  of 
that." 

For  a  moment  the  cheerfulness  of  her 
face  clouded  over;  but  she  saw  the  shadow 
reflected  in  the  faces  of  Jan  and  Marie,  and 
at  once  spoke  more  gayly.  ''  Bless  you,  yes 
—  I'm  rich,"  she  went  on;  ''and  so  are 
you  !  You  've  got  all  the  things  that  I  have 
and  more,  too,  for  your  legs  and  arms  are 
young,  and  you  have  a  mother  to  look  for. 
Not  every  one  has  that,  you  may  depend ! 
And  one  of  these  days  you'll  find  her. 
Make  no  doubt  of  that." 

**If  we  don't,  she'll  surely  find  us,  any- 
way," said  Jan.   ''She  said  she  would!  " 

** Indeed  and  she  will,"  said  the  old  wo- 
man. "Even  the  Germans  couldn't  stop 
her ;  so  what  matter  is  it,  if  you  both  have 
to  look  a  bit  first?  'T  will  only  make  it  the 
better  when  you  find  each  other  again." 

When  the  potatoes  were  done,  the  little 
old  woman  raked  them  out  of  the  ashes 
with  a  stick,  broke  them  open,  sprinkled 
a  bit  of  salt  on  them  from  the  wonderful 


basket,  and  then  handed  one  to  each  of  the 
children,  wrapped  in  a  plantain  leaf,  so  they 
should  not  burn  their  fingers.  A  piece  of 
the  eel  was  served  to  them  in  the  same  way, 
and  Granny  beamed  with  satisfaction  as  she 
watched  her  famished  guests. 

'* Are  n't  you  going  to  eat,  too?"  asked 
Marie  with  her  mouth  full. 

** Bless  you,  yes,"  said  Granny.  ''Every 
chance  I  get.  You  just  watch  me!"  She 
made  a  great  show  of  taking  a  piece  of  the 
eel  as  she  spoke,  but  if  any  one  had  been 
watching  carefully,  they  would  have  seei) 
her  slyly  put  it  back  again  into  the  pan,  and 
the  children  never  knew  that  they  ate  her 
share  and  their  own,  too. 

When  they  had  eaten  every  scrap  of  the 
eel,  and  Fidel  had  finished  the  bones,  the  lit- 
tle old  woman  rose  briskly  from  the  bank, 
washed  her  pan  in  the  river,  packed  it  in 
her  basket  again,  and  led  the  way  up  the 
path  to  the  highway  once  more.  Although 
they  found  the  road  still  filled  with  the  fly- 
ing refugees,  the  world  had  grown  suddenly 

io6 


brighter  to  Jan  and  Marie.  They  had  found 
a  friend  and  they  were  fed. 

**  Now,  you  come  along  home  with  your 
Granny,"  said  the  Httle  old  woman  as 
they  reached  the  Antwerp  road  and  turned 
northward,  ''for  I  live  in  a  little  house  by 
the  river  right  on  the  way  to  wherever  you 
want  to  go  !  " 


IX 
OFF  FOR  ANTWERP 


^  y   >" 

'  ^-^ 


IX 

OFF  FOR  ANTWERP 

For  several  days  the  children  stayed  with 
the  little  old  woman  in  her  tiny  cottage  on 
the  edge  of  the  river.  Each  morning  they 
crossed  the  bridge  and  stationed  themselves 
by  the  Antwerp  road  to  watch  the  swarm  of 
sad-faced  Belgians  as  they  hurried  through 
Boom  on  their  way  to  the  frontier  and  to 
safety  in  Holland.  Each  day  they  hoped 
that  before  the  sun  went  down  they  should 
see  their  mother  among  the  hurrying  mul- 
titudes, but  each  day  brought  a  fresh  dis- 
appointment, and  each  night  the  little  old 
woman  comforted  them  with  fresh  hope  for 
the  morrow. 

*'You  see,  my  darlings,"  said  she,  *'it 
may  take  a  long  time  and  you  may  have  to 
go  a  long  way  first,  but  I  feel  in  my  bones 
that  you  will  find  her  at  last.  And  of  course, 

III 


if  you  do,  every  step  you  take  is  a  step 
toward  her,  no  matter  how  far  round  you 

go." 

Jan  and  Marie  beheved  every  word  that 
Granny  sa'id.  How  could  they  help  it  when 
she  had  been  so  good  to  them !  Her  cour- 
age and  faith  seemed  to  make  an  isle  of 
safety  about  her  where  the  children  rested 
in  perfect  trust.  They  saw  that  neither  guns 
nor  Germans  nor  any  other  terror  could 
frighten  Granny.  In  the  midst  of  a  thou- 
sand alarms  she  calmly  went  her  accus- 
tomed way,  and  every  one  who  met  her 
was  the  better  for  a  glimpse  of  the  brave 
little  brown  face  under  its  snowy  cap.  Early 
each  morning  she  rose  with  the  larks,  cov- 
ered the  bottom  of  her  barrow  with  clean 
white  sand,  and  placed  in  it  the  live  eels 
which  had  been  caught  for  her  and  brought 
to  the  door  by  small  boys  who  lived  in 
the  neighborhood.  Then,  when  she  had 
wakened  the  Twins,  and  the  three  had  had 
their  breakfast  together,  away  she  would 
trudge  over  the  long,  dusty  road  to  Malines, 

112 


wheeling  the   barrow   with    its    squirming 
freight  in  front  of  her. 

Jan  and  Marie  helped  her  all  they  could. 
They  washed  the  dishes  and  swept  the  floor 
of  the  tiny  cottage  and  made  everything 
tidy  and  clean  before  they  went  to  take  up 
their  stand  beside  the  Antwerp  road.  When 
the  shadows  grew  long  in  the  afternoon, 
how  glad  they  were  to  see  the  sturdy  little 

"3 


figure  come  trudging  home  again !  Then 
they  would  run  to  meet  her,  and  Jan  would 
take  the  wheelbarrow  from  her  tired  hands 
and  wheel  it  for  her  over  the  bridge  to  the 
little  cottage  under  the  willow  trees  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river. 

Then  Marie's  work  was  to  clean  the  bar- 
row, while  Jan  pulled  weeds  in  the  tiny 
garden  back  of  the  house,  and  Granny  got 
supper  ready.  Supper-time  was  the  best  of 
all,  for  every  pleasant  evening  they  ate  at 
a  little  table  out  of  doors  under  the  willow 
trees. 

One  evening,  when  supper  had  been 
cleared  away,  they  sat  there  together,  with 
Fidel  beside  them,  while  Granny  told  a 
wonderful  tale  about  the  King  of  the  Eels 
who  lived  in  a  crystal  palace  at  the  bottom 
of  the  river. 

**You  can't  quite  see  the  palace,"  she 
said,  *' because,  when  you  look  right  down 
into  it,  the  water  seems  muddy.  But  some- 
times, when  it  is  still,  you  can  see  the  Up- 
side-Down  Country  where  the  King  of  the 

114 


Eels  lives.  There  the  trees  all  grow  with 
their  heads  down  and  the  sky  is  'way,  'way 
below  the  trees.  You  see  the  sky  might  as 
well  be  down  as  up  for  the  eels.  They  are 
n't  like  us,  just  obliged  to  crawl  around  on 
the  ground  without  ever  being  able  to  go 
up  or  down  at  all.  The  up-above  sky  be- 
longs to  the  birds  and  the  down-below  sky 
belongs  to  the  fishes  and  eels.  And  I  am 
not  sure  but  one  is  just  as  nice  as  the  other." 

Marie  and  Jan  went  to  the  river,  and, 
getting  down  on  their  hands  and  knees, 
looked  into  the  water. 

"We  can't  see  a  thing!"  they  cried  to 
Granny. 

''You  aren't  looking  the  right  way,"  she 
answered.  ''  Look  across  it  toward  the  sun- 
set." 

"Oh!  Oh!"  cried  Marie,  clasping  her 
hands;  "I  see  it!  I  see  the  down-below 
sky  and  it  is  all  red  and  gold ! " 

"  I  told  you  so,"  replied  Granny  trium- 
phantly. "  Lots  of  folks  can't  see  a  thing  in 
the  river  but  the  mud,  when,  if  you  look 

IIS 


at  it  the  right  way,  there  is  a  whole  lovely 
world  in  it.  Now,  the  palace  of  the  King 
of  the  Eels  is  right  over  in  that  direction 
where  the  color  is  the  reddest.  He  is  very 
fond  of  red,  is  the  King  of  the  Eels.  His 
throne  is  all  made  of  rubies,  and  he  makes 
the  Queen  tie  red  bows  on  the  tails  of  all  the 
Httle  eels." 

Jan  and  Marie  were  still  looking  with  all 
their  eyes  across  the  still  water  toward  the 
sunset  and  trying  to  see  the  crystal  pal- 
ace of  the  eels,  when  suddenly  from  behind 
them  there  came  a  loud  *' Hee-haw,  hee- 
haw." They  jumped,  and  Granny  jumped, 
too,  and  they  all  looked  around  to  see  where 
the  sound  came  from.  There,  coming  slowly 
toward  them  along  the  tow-path  on  the 
river-bank,  was  an  old  brown  mule.  She 
was  pulling  a  low,  green  river-boat  by  a  tow- 
line,  and  a  small  boy,  not  much  bigger  than 
Jan,  was  driving  her.  On  the  deck  of  the 
boat  there  was  a  little  cabin  with  white 
curtains  in  the  tiny  windows  and  two  red 
geraniums  in  pots   standing  on   the   sills. 

ii6 


From  a  clothesline  hitched  to  the  rigging 
there  fluttered  a  row  of  little  shirts,  and 
seated  on  a  box  near  by  there  was  a  fat, 
friendly  looking  woman  with  two  small  chil- 
dren playing  by  her  side.  The  father  of  the 
family  was  busy  with  the  tiller. 

IT7 


**  There  come  the  De  Smets,  as  sure  as 
you  live!"  cried  Granny,  rising  from  the 
wheelbarrow,  where  she  had  been  sitting. 
*'I  certainly  am  glad  to  see  them."  And 
she  started  at  once  down  the  river  to  meet 
the  boat,  with  Jan  and  Marie  and  Fidel  all 
following. 

'*  Ship  ahoy !  "  she  cried  gayly  as  the  boat 
drew  near.  The  boy  who  was  driving  the 
mule  grinned  shyly.  The  woman  on  deck 
lifted  her  eyes  from  her  sewing,  smiled,  and 
waved  her  hand  at  Granny,  while  the  two 
little  children  ran  to  the  edge  of  the  boat, 
and  held  out  their  arms  to  her. 

*' Here  we  are  again,  war  or  no  war!" 
cried  Mother  De  Smet,  as  the  boat  came 
alongside.  Father  De  Smet  left  the  tiller  and 
threw  a  rope  ashore.  **Whoa!  "  cried  the 
boy  driving  the  mule.  The  mule  stopped 
with  the  greatest  willingness,  the  boy  caught 
the  rope  and  lifted  the  great  loop  over  a 
strong  post  on  the  river-bank,  and  the 
**  Old  Woman  "  —  for  that  was  the  name  of 
the  boat  —  was  in  port. 

ii8 


Soon  a  gangplank  was  slipped  from  the 
boat  to  the  little  wooden  steps  on  the  bank, 
and  Mother  De  Smet,  with  a  squirming  baby 
under  each  arm,  came  ashore.  *'  1  do  like  to 
get  out  on  dry  land  and  shake  my  legs  a 
bit  now  and  then,"  she  said  cheerfully  as 
she  greeted  Granny.  "On  the  boat  I  just 
sit  still  and  grow  fat! " 

**I  shake  my  legs  for  a  matter  of  ten 
miles  every  day,  "laughed  Granny.  ''That's 
how  I  keep  my  figure!" 

Mother  De  Smet  set  the  babies  down 
on  the  grass,  where  they  immediately  began 
to  tumble  about  like  a  pair  of  puppies,  and 
she  and  Granny  talked  together,  while  the 
Twins  went  to  watch  the  work  of  Father 
De  Smet  and  the  boy,  whose  name  was 
Joseph. 

**  I  don't  know  whatever  the  country  is 
coming  to, "  said  Mother  De  Smet  to  Granny. 
**The  Germans  are  everywhere,  and  they 
are  taking  everything  that  they  can  lay  their 
hands  on.  I  doubt  if  we  ever  get  our  cargo 
safe  to  Antwerp  this  time.  We  've  come  for 


a  load  of  potatoes,  but  I  am  very  much 
afraid  it  is  going  to  be  our  last  trip  for  some 
time.  The  country  looks  quiet  enough  as 
you  see  it  from  the  boat,  but  the  things 
that  are  happening  in  it  would  chill  your 
blood." 

"Yes,"  sighed  Granny;  **if  I  would  let 
it,  my  old  heart  would  break  over  the  sights 
that  I  see  every  day  on  my  way  to  Malines. 
But  a  broken  heart  won't  get  you  anywhere. 
Maybe  a  stout  heart  will." 

''Who  are  the  children  you  have  with 
you?"  asked  Mother  De  Smet. 

Then  Granny  told  her  how  she  had  found 
Jan  and  Marie,  and  all  the  rest  of  the  sad 
story.  Mother  De  Smet  wiped  her  eyes  and 
blew  her  nose  very  hard  as  she  listened. 

*'  I  would  n't  let  them  wait  any  longer  by 
the  Antwerp  road,  anyway,"  she  said  when 
Granny  had  finished.  **  There  is  no  use  in 
the  world  in  lookmg  for  their  mother  to 
come  that  way.  She  was  probably  driven 
over  the  border  long  ago.  You  just  leave 
them  with  me  to-morrow  while  you  go  to 

1 20 


town.  'Twill  cheer  them  up  a  bit  to  play 
with  Joseph  and  the  babies." 

**  Well,  now,"  said  Granny,  *'  if  that  is  n't 
just  like  your  good  heart !  " 

And  that  is  how  it  happened  that,  when 
she  trudged  off  with  her  barrow  the  next 
morning,  the  Twins  ran  down  to  the  boat 
and  spent  the  day  rolling  on  the  grass  with 
the  babies,  and  helping  Father  De  Smet  and 
Joseph  to  load  the  boat  with  bags  of  pota- 
toes which  had  been  brought  to  the  dock 
in  the  night  by  neighboring  farmers. 

When  Granny  came  trundling  her  bar- 
row home  in  the  late  afternoon,  she  found 
the  children  and  their  new  friends  already 
on  the  best  of  terms ;  and  that  night,  after 
the  Twins  were  in  bed,  she  went  aboard 
the  *' Old  Woman"  and  talked  for  a  long 
time  with  Father  and  Mother  De  Smet. 
No  one  will  ever  know  just  what  they  said 
to  each  other,  but  it  must  be  that  they 
talked  about  the  Twins,  for  when  the  chil- 
dren awoke  the  next  morning,  they  found 
Granny  standing  beside  their  bed  with  their 

121 


clothes  all  nicely  washed  and  ironed  in  her 
hands. 

*'  I  'm  not  going  to  town  this  morning 
with  my  eels,"  she  said  as  she  popped  them 
out  of  bed.  ''I'm  going  to  stay  at  home 
and  see  you  off  on  your  journey!"  She 
did  not  tell  them  that  things  had  grown  so 
terrible  in  Malines  that  even  she  felt  it  wise 
to  stay  away. 

I?? 


"  Our  journey  !  "  cried  the  Twins  in  as- 
tonishment.  ''  What  journey  ?  " 

''To  Antwerp,"  cried  Granny.  *' Now,  * 
you  never  thought  a  chance  Hke  that  would 
come  to  you,  I  'm  sure,  but  some  people 
are  born  lucky  !  You  see  the  De  Smets 
start  back  to-day,  and  they  are  willing  to 
take  you  along  with  them!  " 

*'  But  we  don't  want  to  leave  you,  dear, 
dear  Granny!"  cried  the  Twins,  throwing 
their  arms  about  her  neck. 

''  And  I  don't  want  you  to  go,  either,  my 
lambs,"  said  Granny;  ''but,  you  see,  there 
are  lots  of  things  to  think  of.  In  the  first 
place,  of  course  you  want  to  go  on  hunting 
for  your  mother.  It  may  be  she  has  gone 
over  the  border,  for  the  Germans  are  al- 
ready in  trenches  near  Antwerp,  and  our 
army  is  nearer  still  to  Antwerp  and  in 
trenches,  too.  There  they  stay.  Father  De 
Smet  says,  for  all  the  world,  like  two  tigers, 
lying  ready  to  spring  at  each  other's  throats. 
He  says  Antwerp  is  so  strongly  fortified 
that  the  Germans  can  never  take  it,  and  so 

123 


it  is  a  better  place  to  be  in  than  here.  The 
De  Smets  will  see  that  you  are  left  in  safe 
hands,  and  I  'm  sure  your  mother  would 
want  you  to  go."  The  children  considered 
this  for  a  moment  in  silence. 

At  last  Jan  said,  "  Do  you  think  Father 
De  Smet  would  let  me  help  drive  the  mule  ?  " 

"  I  have  n't  a  doubt  of  it,"  said  Granny. 

''  But  what  about  Fidel,  our  dear  Fidel  ?" 
cried  Marie. 

**  I  tell  you  what  I  '11  do,"  said  Granny. 
**  I  '11  take  care  of  Fidel  for  you  !  You  shall 
leave  him  here  with  me  until  you  come  back 
again !  You  see,  I  really  need  good  com- 
pany, and  since  I  can't  have  you,  I  know 
you  would  be  glad  to  have  Fidel  stay  here 
to  protect  me.  Then  you  '11  always  know 
just  where  he  is." 

She  hurried  the  children  into  their  clothes 
as  she  talked,  gave  them  a  good  breakfast, 
and  before  they  had  time  to  think  much 
about  what  was  happening  to  them,  they 
had  said  good-bye  to  Fidel,  who  had  to  be 
shut  in  the  cottage  to  keep  him  from  fol- 

124 


lowing  the  boat,  and  were  safely  aboai*d  the 
**01d  Woman"  and  slowly  moving  away 
down  the  river.  They  stood  in  the  stern 
of  the  boat,  listening  to  Fidel's  wild  barks, 
and  waving  their  hands,  until  Granny's  kind 
face  was  a  mere  round  speck  in  the  dis- 
tance. 


X 

ON  THE  TOW-PATH 


S  -^-^^is^^' 


X 

ON  THE  TOW-PATH 

When  they  could  no  longer  see  Granny, 
nor  hear  Fidel,  the  children  sat  down  on  a 
coil  of  rope  behind  the  cabin  and  felt  very 
miserable  indeed.  Marie  was  just  turning 
up  the  corner  of  her  apron  to  wipe  her 
eyes,  and  Jan  was  looking  at  nothing  at  all 
and  winking  very  hard,  when  good  Mother 
De  Smet  came  by  with  a  baby  waddling 
along  on  each  side  of  her.  She  gave  the 
two  dismal  little  faces  a  quick  glance  and 
then  said  kindly  :  — 

**  Jan,  you  run  and  see  if  you  can't  help 
Father  with  the  tiller,  and,  Marie,  would 
you  mind  playing  with  the  babies  while  I 
put  on  the  soup-kettle  and  fix  the  greens 
for  dinner?  They  are  beginning  to  climb 
everywhere  now,  and  I  am  afraid  they  will 
fall  overboard  if  somebody  does  n't  watch 
them  every  minute  !  " 

129 


Jan  clattered  at  once  across  the  deck  to 
Father  De  Smet,  and  Marie  gladly  fol- 
lowed his  wife  to  the  open  space  in  front 
of  the  cabin  where  the  babies  had  room  to 
roll  about.  Half  an  hour  later,  when  Mother 
De  Smet  went  back  to  get  some  potatoes 
for  the  soup,  she  found  Jan  proudly  steer- 
ing the  boat  by  himself 

**Oh,  my  soul!"  she  cried  in  astonish- 
ment. ''What  a  clever  boy  you  must  be  to 
learn  so  quickly  to  handle  the  tiller.  Where 
is  Father  De  Smet?" 

''  Here !  "  boomed  a  loud  voice  behind 
her,  and  Father  De  Smet's  head  appeared 
above  a  barrel  on  the  other  side  of  the  deck. 
*' I 'm  trying  to  make  the  'Old  Woman' 
look  as  if  she  had  no  cargo  aboard.  If 
the  Germans  see  these  potatoes,  they  '11 
never  let  us  get  them  to  Antwerp,"  he 
shouted. 

"Sh-h-h!  You  mustn't  talk  so  loud," 
whispered  Mother  De  Smet.  "You  roar 
like  a  foghorn  on  a  dark  night.  The  Ger- 
mans won't  have  any  trouble  in  finding  out 

130 


about  the  potatoes  if  you  shout  the  news 
all  over  the  landscape." 

Father  De  Smet  looked  out  over  the 
quiet  Belgian  fields. 

'*  There's  nobody  about  that  I  can  see," 
131 


he  said,  ''but  I'll  roar  more  gently  next 
time." 

There  was  a  bend  in  the  river  just  at  this 
point,  and  Jan,  looking  fearfully  about  to 
see  if  he  could  see  any  Germans,  for  an 
instant  forgot  all  about  the  tiller.  There 
was  a  jerk  on  the  tow-rope-and  a  bump  as 
the  nose  of  the  ''Old  Woman"  ran  into  the 
river-bank.  Netteke,  the  mule,  came  to  a 
sudden  stop,  and  Mother  De  Smet  sat  down 
equally  suddenly  on  a  coil  of  rope.  Her 
potatoes  spilled  over  the  deck,  while  a  wail 
from  the  front  of  the  boat  announced  that 
one  of  the  babies  had  bumped,  too.  Mother 
De  Smet  picked  herself  up  and  ran  to  see 
what  was  the  matter  with  the  baby,  while 
Father  De  Smet  seized  a  long  pole  and  hur- 
ried forward.  Joseph  left  the  mule  to  browse 
upon  the  grass  beside  the  tow-path  and  ran 
back  to  the  boat.  His  father  threw  him  a 
pole  which  was  kept  for  such  emergencies, 
and  they  both  pushed.  Joseph  pushed  on 
the  boat  and  his  father  pushed  against 
the  river-bank.   Meanwhile  poor  Jan  stood 

132 


wretchedly  by  the  tiller  knowing  that  his 
carelessness  had  caused  the  trouble,  yet  not 
knowing  what  to  do  to  help. 

''Nevermind,  son,"  said  Mother DeSmet 
kindly,  when  she  came  back  for  her  po- 
tatoes and  saw  his  downcast  face.  *'  It  is  n't 
the  first  time  the  'Old  Woman'  has  stuck 
her  nose  in  the  mud,  and  with  older  people 
than  you  at  the  tiller,  tool  We  '11  soon  have 
her  off  again  and  no  harm  done." 

The  boat  gave  a  little  lurch  toward  the 
middle  of  the  stream. 

**Look  alive  there,  Mate!"  sang  out 
Father  De  Smet.  ''  Hard  aport  with  the 
tiller  !   Head  her  out  into  the  stream  !  " 

Joseph  flung  his  pole  to  his  father  and 
rushed  back  to  Netteke,  pulled  her  patient 
nose  out  of  a  delicious  bunch  of  thistles  and 
started  her  up  the  tow-path.  Jan  sprang  to 
the  tiller,  and  soon  the  "Old  Woman  "  was 
once  more  gliding  smoothly  over  the  quiet 
water  toward  Antwerp. 

When  Father  De  Smet  came  back  to  the 
stern  of  the  boat,  Jan  expected  a  scolding, 

133 


but  perhaps  it  seemed  to  the  good-natured 
skipper  that  Jan  had  troubles  enough  al- 
ready, for  he  only  said  mildly,  ''Stick  to 
your  job,  son,  whatever  it  is,"  and  went  on 
covering  his  potatoes  with  empty  boxes  and 
pieces  of  sailcloth.  Jan  paid  such  strict  at- 
tention to  the  tiller  after  that  that  he  did  not 
even  forget  when  Father  De  Smet  pointed 
out  a  burning  farmhouse  a  mile  or  so  from 
the  river  and  said  grimly,  ''The  Germans 
are  amusing  themselves  again." 

For  the  most  part,  however,  the  country- 
side seemed  so  quiet  and  peaceful  that  it 
was  hard  to  believe  that  such  dreadful  things 
were  going  on  all  about  them.  While  Father 
De  Smet's  eyes,  under  their  bushy  brows, 
kept  close  watch  in  every  direction,  he  said 
little  about  his  fears  and  went  on  his  way 
exactly  as  he  had  done  before  the  invasion. 

It  was  quite  early  in  the  morning  when 
they  left  Boom,  and  by  ten  o'clock  Joseph 
was  tired  of  trudging  along  beside  Netteke. 
He  hailed  his  father. 

"  May  I  come  aboard  now?"  he  shouted. 
134 


Father  De  Smet  looked  at  Jan. 

''Would  you  like  to  drive  the  mule 
awhile?"  he  asked. 

**0h,  would  n't  I ! "  cried  Jan. 

**Have  you  ever  driven  a  mule  before?" 
Father  De  Smet  asked  again. 

''Not  a  mule,  exactly,"  Jan  replied,  "but 
I  drove  old  Pier  up  from  the  field  with  a 
load  of  wheat  all  by  myself.  Mother  sat  on 
the  load." 

"Come along!  "  shouted  Father  De  Smet 
to  Joseph,  and  in  a  moment  the  gangplank 
was  out  and  Jan  and  Joseph  had  changed 
places. 

"May  I  go,  too?"  asked  Marie  timidly 
of  Father  De  Smet  as  he  was  about  to  draw 
in  the  plank.  "The  babies  are  both  asleep 
and  I  have  nothing  to  do." 

Father  De  Smet  took  a  careful  look  in 
every  direction.  It  was  level,  open  country 
all  about  them,  dotted  here  and  there  with 
farmhouses,  and  in  the  distance  the  spire  of 
a  village  church  rose  above  the  clustering 
houses  and  pointed  to  the  sky. 

135 


"Yes,  yes,  child.  Go  ahead,"  said  Father 
De  Smet.  ''Only  don't  get  too  near  Net- 
teke's  hind  legs.  She  does  n't  know  you 
very  well  and  sometimes  she  forgets  her 
manners." 

Marie  skipped  over  the  gangplank  and 
ran  along  the  tow-path  to  Jan,  who  already 
had  taken  up  Netteke's  reins  and  was  wait- 
ing for  the  signal  to  start.  Joseph  took 
his  place  at  the  tiller,  and  again  the  ''  Old 
Woman"  moved  slowly  down  the  stream. 

For  some  time  Jan  and  Marie  plodded 
along  with  Netteke.  At  first  they  thought  it 
good  fun,  but  by  and  by,  as  the  sun  grew 
hot,  driving  a  mule  on  a  tow-path  did  not 
seem  quite  so  pleasant  a  task  as  they  had 
thought  it  would  be. 

''I'm  tired  of  this,"  said  Jan  at  last  to 
Marie.  ''  That  mule  is  so  slow  that  I  have 
to  sight  her  by  something  to  be  sure  that 
she  is  moving  at  all !  I  Ve  been  measuring 
by  that  farmhouse  across  the  river  for  a  long 
time,  and  she  has  n't  crawled  up  to  it  yet ! 
I  should  n't  wonder  if  she  'd  go  to  sleep 

1.36 


some  day  and  fall  into  the  river  and  nevef 
wake  up !  Why,  I  am  almost  asleep  myself." 

^'She'll  wake  up  fast  enough  when  it's 
time  to  eat,  and  so  will  you,"  said  Marie, 
with  profound  wisdom. 

''Let's  see  if  we  can't  make  her  go  a 
little  faster,  anyway,"  said  Jan,  ignoring 
Marie's  remark.  **  I  know  what  I  '11  do,"  he 
went  on,  chuckhng;  **  I  '11  get  some  burrs 
and  stick  them  in  her  tail,  and  then  every 
time  she  slaps  the  flies  off  she  '11  make  her- 
self go  faster." 

Marie  seized  Jan's  arm. 

^'You'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind!"  she 
cried.  **  Father  De  Smet  told  me  especially 
to  keep  away  from  Netteke's  hind  legs." 

''Pooh!"  said  Jan;  "he  didn't  tell  me 
that.  I  'm  not  afraid  of  any  mule  alive.  I 
guess  if  I  can  harness  a  horse  and  drive 
home  a  load  of  grain  from  the  field,  there 
isn't  much  I  can't  do  with  a  mule!"  To 
prove  his  words  he  shouted  "U-U"  at 
Netteke  and  slapped  her  flank  with  a  long 
branch  of  willow. 

137 


Now,  Netteke  was  a  proud  mule  and  she 
was  n't  used  to  being  slapped.  Father  De 
Smet  knew  her  ways,  and  knew  also  that 
her  steady,  even,  slow  pace  was  better  in 
the  long  run  than  to  attempt  to  force  a 
livelier  gait,  and  Netteke  was  well  aware 
of  what  was  expected  of  her.  She  resented 
being  interfered  with.  Instead  of  going  for- 
ward at  greater  speed,  she  put  her  four  feet 
together,  laid  back  her  ears,  gave  a  loud 
**  hee-haw  1"  and  stopped  stock-still. 

138 


*'U-U!"  shouted  Jan.  In  vain!  Net- 
teke  would  npt  move.  Marie  held  a  hand- 
ful of  fresh  grass  just  out  of  reach  of  her 
mouth.  But  Netteke  was  really  offended. 
She  made  no  effort  to  get  it.  She  simply 
stayed  where  she  was.  Father  De  Smet 
stuck  his  head  over  the  side  of  the  boat. 

"  What  is  the  matter?  "  he  shouted. 

*'0h,  dear!"  said  Jan  to  Marie.  *' I 
hoped  he  would  n't  notice  that  the  boat 
wasn't  moving." 

*' Netteke  has  stopped.  She  won't  go  at  all. 
I  think  she 's  run  down ! "  Marie  called  back. 

''  Try  coaxing  her,"  cried  the  skipper. 
**Give  her  something  to  eat.  Hold  it  in 
front  of  her  nose." 

''I  have,"  answered  Marie,  ''but  she 
won't  even  look  at  it." 

''Then  it's  no  use,"  said  Father  De 
Smet  mournfully.  "  She  's  balked  and  that 
is  all  there  is  to  it.  We  '11  just  have  to  wait 
until  she  is  ready  to  go  again.  When  she 
has  made  up  her  mind  she  is  as  difficult  to 
persuade  as  a  setting  hen." 

139 


Mother  De  Smet's  head  appeared  beside 
her  husband's  over  the  boat-rail. 

'*  Oh,  dear !  "  said  she  ;  *'  I  hoped  we 
should  get  to  the  other  side  of  the  line  be- 
fore dark,  but  if  Netteke  's  set,  she 's  set, 
and  we  must  just  make  the  best  of  it.  It 's 
lucky  it 's  dinner-time.  We  '11  eat,  and 
maybe  by  the  time  we  are  through  she  '11 
be  willing  to  start."  Father  De  Smet  tossed 
a  bucket  on  to  the  grass. 

"  Give  her  a  good  drink,"  he  said,  **and 
come  aboard  yourselves." 

Jan  filled  the  bucket  from  the  river  and 
set  it  down  before  Netteke,  but  she  was  in 
no  mood  for  blandishments.  She  kept  her 
ears  back  and  would  not  touch  the  water. 

**  All  right,  then,  Crosspatch,"  said  Jan. 
Leaving  the  pail  in  front  of  her,  he  went 
back  to  the  boat.  The  gangplank  was  put 
out,  and  he  and  Marie  went  onlDoard.  They 
found  dinner  ready  in  the  tiny  cabin,  and 
because  it  was  so  small  and  stuffy,  and 
there  were  too  many  of  them,  anyway,  to 
get  into  it  comfortably,  they  each  took  a 

140 


bowl  of  soup  as  Mother  De  Smet  handed  it 
to  them  and  sat  down  on  the  deck  in  front 
of  the  cabin  to  eat  it  It  was  not  until  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon  that  Netteke  forgot 
her  injuries,  consented  to  eat  and  drink, 
and  indicated  her  willingness  to  move  on 
toward  Antwerp. 


XI 
THE  ATTACK 


XI 
THE  ATTACK 

Joseph  and  his  father  were  both  on  the 
tow-path  when  at  last  Netteke  decided  to 
move.  As  she  set  her  ears  forward  .and 
took  the  first  step,  Father  De  Smet  heaved 
a  sigh  of  rehef. 

*'  Now,  why  could  n't  you  have  done  that 
long  ago,  you  addlepated  old  fool,"  he  said 
mildly  to  Netteke.  '*  You  have  made  no 
end  of  trouble  for  us,  and  gained  nothing 
for  yourself!  Now  I  am  afraid  we  shan't 
get  beyond  the  German  lines  before  dark. 
We  may  even  have  to  spend  the  night  in 
dangerous  territory,  and  all  because  you  're 
just  as  mulish  as  —  as  a  mule,"  he  finished 
helplessly. 

Joseph  laughed.  '*  Can't  you  think  of 
anything  mulisher  than  a  mule?"  he  said. 

''  There  is  n't  a  thing,"  answered  his 
father. 

H5 


**  Well,"  answered  Joseph,  **  there  are  a 
whole  lot  of  other  things  beside  balky  mules 
in  this  world  that  I  wish  had  never  been 
made.  There  are  spiders,  and  rats,  and 
Germans.  They  are  all  pests.  I  don't  see 
why.  they  were  ever  born." 

Father  De  Smet  became  serious  at  once. 

**Son,"  he  said  sternly,  ''don't  ever  let 
me  hear  you  say  such  a  thing  again.  There 
are  spiders,  and  rats,  and  balky  mules,  and 
Germans,  and  it  does  n't  do  a  bit  of  good 
to  waste  words  fussing  because  they  are 
here.  The  thing  to  do  is  to  deal  with 
them ! " 

Father  De  Smet  was  so  much  in  earnest 
that  he  boomed  these  words  out  in  quite  a 
loud  voice.   Joseph  seized  his  hand. 

'*  Hush  !  "  he  whispered. 

Father  De  Smet  looked  up.  There, 
standing  right  in  front  of  them  in  the  tow- 
path,  was  a  German  soldier ! 

''  Halt !  "  shouted  the  soldier. 

But  Netteke  was  now  just  as  much  bent 
upon  going  as  she  had  been  before  upon 

146 


standing  still.  She  paid  no  attention  what- 
ever to  the  command,  but  walked  stolidly 
along  the  tow-path  directly  toward  the  sol- 
dier. 

"  Halt !  "  cried  the  soldier  again. 

But  Netteke  had  had  no  military  train- 
ing, and  she  simply  kept  on.  In  one  more 
step  she  would  have  come  down  upon  the 
soldier  s  toes,  if  he  had  not  moved  aside 
just  in  time.    He  was  very  angry. 

**Why  didn't  you  stop  your  miserable 
old  mule  when  I  told  you  to?"  he  said  to 
Father  De  Smet. 

**  It's  a  balky  mule,"  repHed  Father  De 
Smet  mildly,  ''and  very  obstinate." 

"  Indeed  !  "  sneered  the  soldier;  "then  I 
suppose  you  have  named  him  Albert  after 
your  pig-headed  King!  " 

"  No,"  answered  Father  De  Smet,  "  I 
think  too  much  of  my  King  to  name  my 
mule  after  him." 

"  Oh,  ho !  "  said  the  German  ;  "then  per- 
haps you  have  named  him  for  the  Kaiser!  " 

Netteke  had  marched  steadily  along  dur- 
H7 


ing  this  conversation,  and  they  were  now 
past  the  soldier. 

*'  No/'  Father  De  Smet  called  back,  ''  I 
did  n't  name  her  after  the  Kaiser.  I  think 
too  much  of  my  mule  !  " 

The  soldier  shook  his  fist  after  them. 
'*  I  '11  make  you  pay  well  for  your  impu- 
dence!"  he  shouted.  **  You  and  I  will  meet 
again !  " 

'*  Very  likely,"  muttered  Father  De  Smet 
under  his  breath.  He  was  now  more  than 
ever  anxious  to  get  beyond  the  German 
lines  before  dark,  but  as  the  afternoon 
passed  it  became  certain  that  they  would 
not  be  able  to  do  it.  The  shadows  grew 
longer  and  longer  as  Netteke  plodded 
slowly  along,  and  at  last  Mother  De 
Smet  called  to  her  husband  over  the  boat- 
side. 

*'I  think  we  shall  have  to  stop  soon  and 
feed  the  mule  or  she  will  be  too  tired  to 
get  us  across  the  line  at  all.  I  believe  we 
should  save  time  by  stopping  for  supper. 
Besides,  I  want  to  send  over  there,"  —  she 

148 


pointed  to  a  farmhouse  not  a  great  dis- 
tance from  the  ri< er,  —  ''and  get  some  milk 
and  eggs." 

"Very  well,"  said  her  husband;  "we'll 
stop  under  that  bunch  of  willows." 

The  bunch  of  willows  beside  the  river 
which  he  pointed  out  proved  to  be  a  pleas- 
ant, sheltered  spot,  with  grassy  banks  slop- 
ing down  to  the  water.  A  turn  in  the  river 
enabled  them  to  draw  the  "Old  Woman" 
up  into  their  shadows,  and  because  the  trees 
were  green  and  the  boat  was  green,  the  re- 
flections in  the  water  were  also  green,  and 
for  this  reason  the  boat  seemed  very  well 
hidden  from  view. 

"  I  don't  believe  we  shall  be  noticed  here," 
said  Father  De  Smet. 

"  It's  hot  on  the  boat.  It  would  be  nice 
to  take  the  babies  ashore  while  we  eat," 
said  Mother  De  Smet,  running  out  the 
gangplank.  "  I  believe  we  '11  have  supper 
on  the  grass.  You  hurry  along  and  get  the 
milk  and  eggs,  and  I  '11  cook  some  onions 
while  you  are  gone." 

149 


■/*- 


Jan  and  Marie  ran  over  the  plank  at 
once,  and  Mother  De  Smet  soon  followed 
with  the  babies.  Then,  while  Marie  watched 
them,  she  and  Jan  brought  out  the  onions 
and  a  pan,  and  soon  the  air  was  heavy  with 
the  smell  of  frying  onions.  Joseph  and  Jan 
slipped  the  bridle  over  Netteke's  collar  and 
allowed  her  to  eat  the  rich  green  grass  at 
the  river's  edge.  When  Father  De  Smet 
returned,   supper   was   nearly  ready.     He 

ISO 


sniffed  appreciatively  as  he  appeared  under 
the  trees. 

*'  Smells  good,"  he  said  as  he  held  out 
the  milk  and  eggs  toward  his  wife. 

**  Sie  haben  recht !  "  (You  are  right!),  said 
a  loud  voice  right  behind  him ! 

Father  De  Smet  was  so  startled  that  he 
dropped  the  eggs.  He  whirled  about,  and 
there  stood  the  German  soldier  who  had 
told  Netteke  to  halt.  With  him  were  six 
other  men. 

"  Ha !  I  told  you  we  should  meet  again ! " 
shouted  the  soldier  to  Father  De  Smet. 
''And  it  was  certainly  thoughtful  of  you  to 
provide  for  our  entertainment.  Comrades, 
fall  to!" 

The  onions  were  still  cooking  over  a 
little  blaze  of  twigs  and  dry  leaves,  but 
Mother  De  Smet  was  no  longer  tending 
them.  The  instant  she  heard  the  gruff  voice 
she  had  dropped  her  spoon,  and,  seizing  a 
baby  under  each  arm,  had  fled  up  the  gang- 
plank on  to  the  boat.  Marie  followed  at  top 
speed.   Father  De  Smet  faced  the  intruders. 


**  What  do  you  want  here  ?  "  he  said. 

'*Some  supper  first,"  said  the  soldier 
gayly,  helping  himself  to  some  onions  and 
passing  the  pan  to  his  friends.  ''  Then,  per- 
haps, a  few  supplies  for  our  brave  army. 
There  is  no  hurry.   After  supper  will  do; 

152 


but  first  we  '11  drink  a  health  to  the  Kaiser, 
and  since  you  are  host  here,  you  shall  pro- 
pose it !  " 

He  pointed  to  the  pail  of  milk  which 
Father  De  Smet  still  held. 

''Now/'  he  shouted,  'Mift  your  stein  and 
say,  *  Hoch  der  Kaiser.'  " 

Father  De  Smet  looked  them  in  the  face 
and  said  not  a  word.  Meanwhile  Jan  and 
Joseph,  to  Mother  De  Smet's  great  alarm, 
had  not  followed  her  on  to  the  boat.  In- 
stead they  had  flown  to  Netteke,  who  was 
partly  hidden  from  the  group  by  a  bunch 
of  young  willows  near  the  water's  edge, 
and  with  great  speed  and  presence  of  mind 
had  slipped  her  bridle  over  her  head  and 
gently  started  her  up  the' tow-path. 

''Oh,"  murmured  Joseph,  "suppose  she 
should  balk!"  But  Netteke  had  done  her 
balking  for  the  day,  and,  having  been  re- 
freshed by  her  luncheon  of  green  grass,  she 
was  ready  to  move  on.  The  river  had  now 
quite  a  current,  which  helped  them,  and 
while  the  soldiers  were  still  having  their 

^53 


joke  with  Father  De  Smet  the  boat  moved 
quietly  out  of  sight.  As  she  felt  it  move, 
Mother  De  Smet  lifted  her  head  over  the 
boat's  rail  behind  which  she.  and  the  chil- 
dren were  hiding,  and  raised  the  end  of 
the  gangplank  so  that  it  would  make  no 
noise  by  scraping  along  the  ground.  She 
was  beside  herself  with  anxiety.  If  she 
screamed  or  said  anything  to  the  boys,  the 
attention  of  the  soldiers  would  immediately 
be  directed  toward  them.  Yet  if  they  should 
by  any  miracle  succeed  in  getting  away, 
there  was  her  husband  left  alone  to  face 
seven  enemies.    She  wrung  her  hands. 

"  Maybe  they  will  stop  to  eat  the  onions," 
she  groaned  to  herself.  She  held  to  the 
gangplank  and  niurmured  prayers  to  all 
the  saints  she  knew,  while  Jan  and  Joseph 
trotted  briskly  along  the  tow-path,  and 
Netteke,  assisted  by  the  current,  made  bet- 
ter speed  than  she  had  at  any  time  during 
the  day. 

Meanwhile  his  captors  were  busy  with 
Father  De  Smet.    ''  Come !    Drink  to  the 

154 


Kaiser !  "  shouted  the  first  soldier,  *'or  we  'II 
feed  you  to  the  fishes  !  We  want  our  sup- 
per, and  you  delay  us."  Still  Father  De 
Smet  said  nothing.  **We'll  give  you  just 
until  I  count  ten,"  said  the  soldier,  point- 
ing his  gun  at  him,  ''and  if  by  that  time 
you  have  not  found  your  tongue  —  V 

But  he  did  not  finish  the  sentence.  From 
an  unexpected  quarter  a  shot  rang  out.  It 
struck  the  pail  of  milk  and  dashed  it  over 
the  German  and  over  Father  De  Smet  too. 
Another  shot  followed,  and  the  right  arm 
of  the  soldier  fell  helpless  to  his  side.  One 
of  his  companions  gave  a  howl  and  fell  to 
the  ground.  Still  no  one  appeared  at  whom 
the  Germans  could  direct  their  fire.  **  Snip- 
ers !  "  shouted  the  soldiers,  instantly  lower- 
ing their  guns,  but  before  they  could  even 
fire  in  the  direction  of  the  unseen  enemy, 
there  was  such  a  patter  of  bullets  about 
them  that  they  turned  and  fled. 

Father  De  Smet  fled,  too.  He  leaped 
over  the  frying-pan  and  tore  down  the 
river-bank  after  the    boat.    As    he    over- 


took  it,  Mother  De  Smet  ran  out  the  gang- 
plank. "  Boys  !  "  shouted  Father  De  Smet. 
''  Get  aboard  !  Get  aboard  !  "  Joseph  and 
Jan  instantly  stopped  the  mule  and,  drop- 
ping the  reins,  raced  up  the  gangplank, 
almost  before  the  end  of  it  rested  safely  on 
the  ground.  Father  De  Smet  snatched  up 
the  reins.  On  went  the  boat  at  Netteke's 
best  speed,  which  seemed  no  better  than  a 
snail's  pace  to  the  fleeing  family.  Sounds 
of  the  skirmish  continued  to  reach  their 
ears,  even  when  they  had  gone  some  dis- 
tance down  the  river,  and  it  was  not  un- 
til twilight  had  deepened  into  dusk,  and 
they  were  hidden  in  its  shadows,  that  they 
dared  hope  the  danger  was  passed.  It  was 
after  ten  o'clock  at  night  when  the  "Old 
Woman"  at  last  approached  the  twinkling 
lights  of  Antwerp,  and  they  knew  that,  for 
the  time  being  at  least,  they  were  safe. 

They  were  now  beyond  the  German  lines 
in  country  still  held  by  the  Belgians.  Here, 
in  a  suburb  of  the  city.  Father  De  Smet 
decided  to  dock  for  the   night.    A  distant 

156 


clock  struck  eleven  as  the  hungry  but  thank- 
ful family  gathered  upon  the  deck  of  the 
**  Old  Woman"  to  eat  a  meager  supper  of 
bread  and  cheese  with  only  the  mxoon  to  light 
their  repast.  Not  until  they  had  finished 
did  Father  De  Smet  tell  them  all  that  had 
happened  to  him  during  the  few  terrible 
moments  when  he  was  in  the  hands  of  the 
enemy. 

"  They  overreached  themselves,"  he  said. 
**  They  meant  to  amuse  themselves  by  pro- 
longing my  misery,  and  they  lingered  just 
a  bit  too  long."  He  turned  to  Jan  and 
Joseph.  ''You  were  brave  boys!  If  you 
had  not  started  the  boat  when  you  did,  it  is 
quite  likely  they  might  have  got  me,  after 
all,  and  the  potatoes  too.  I  am  proud  of 
'  you." 

*'  But,  Father,"  cried  Joseph,  "who  could 
have  fired  those  sho.ts?  We  didn't  see  a 
soul." 

**  Neither  did  I,"  answered  his  father; 
**  and  neither  did  the  Germans  for  that  mat- 
ter. There  was  no  one  in  sight." 

157 


**Oh/'  cried  Mother  De  Smet,  **it  was 
as  if  the  good  God  himself  intervened  to 
save  you  I  " 

'*As  I  figure  it  out,"  said  Father  De 
Smet,  "we  must  have  stopped  very  near 
the  trenches,  and  our  own  men  must  have 
seen  the  Germans  attack  us.  My  German 
friend  had  evidently  been  following  us  up, 
meaning  to  get  everything  we  had  and. me 
too.  But  the  smell  of  the  onions  was  too 
much  for  him  !  If  he  had  n't  been  greedy, 
he  might  have  carried  out  his  plan,  but  he 
wanted  our  potatoes  and  our  supper  too ; 
and  so  he  got  neither ! "  he  chuckled.  ''And 
neither  did  the  Kaiser  get  a  toast  from  me  I 
Instead,  he  got  a  salute  from  the  Belgians." 
He  crossed  himself  reverently.  "Thank 
God  for  our  soldiers,"  he  said,  and  Mother 
De  Smet,  weeping  softly,  murmured  a  de- 
vout "Amen." 

Little  did  Jan  and  Marie  dream  as  they 
listened,  that  this  blessing  rested  upon  their 
own  father,  and  that  he  had  been  one  of 
the  Belgian  soldiers,  who,  firing  from  the 

158 


trenches,  had  dehvered  them  from  the  hands 
of  their  enemies.  Their  father,  hidden  away 
in  the  earth  Hke  a  fox,  as  httle  dreamed  that 
he  had  helped  to  save  his  own  children  from 
a  terrible  fate. 


/' 


:> 


XII 
THE  ZEPPELIN  RAID 


XII 

THE  ZEPPELIN  RAID 

When  the  Twins  awoke,  early  the  next 
morning,  they  found  that  Father  and  Mother 
De  Smet  had  been  stirring  much  earHer 
still,  and  that  the  ''Old  Woman'*  was  al- 
ready slipping  quietly  along  among  the 
docks  of  Antwerp.  To  their  immense  sur- 
prise they  were  being  towed,  not  by  Net- 
teke,  but  by  a  very  small  and  puffy  steam 
tug.  They  were  further  astonished  to  find 
that  Netteke  herself  was  on  board  the  ''Old 
Woman." 

"  How  in  the  world  did  you  get  the  mule  on 
to  the  boat !  "  gasped  Jan,  when  he  saw  her. 

"  Led  her  right  up  the  gangplank  just 
like  folks,"  answered  Father  De  Smet.  "I 
could  n't  leave  her  behind  and  I  wanted  to 
get  to  the  Antwerp  docks  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble. This  was  the  quickest  way.  You  see," 

163 


he  went  on,  *'  I  don't  know  where  I  shall  be 
going  next,  but  I  know  it  won't  be  up  the 
Dyle,  so  I  am  going  to  keep  Netteke  right 
where  I  can  use  her  any  minute." 

There  was  no  time  for  further  questions, 
for  Father  De  Smet  had  to  devote  his  at- 
tention to  the  tiller.  Soon  they  were  safely 
in  dock  and  Father  De  Smet  was  unload- 
ing his  potatoes  and  selling  them  to  the 
market-men,  who  swarmed  about  the  boats 
to  buy  the  produce  which  had  been  brought 
in  from  the  country. 

"  There !  "  he  said  with  a  sigh  of  rehef 
as  he  delivered  the  last  of  his  cargo  to  a 
purchaser  late  in  the  afternoon;  ''that  load 
is  safe  from  the  Germans,  anyway." 

" How  did  you  find  things  up  the  Dyle?" 
asked  the  merchant  who  had  bought  the 
potatoes. 

Father  De  Smet  shook  his  head. 

'*  Could  n't  well  be  worse,"  he  said.  **  I  'm 
not  going  to  risk  another  trip.  The  Germans 
are  taking  everything  they  can  lay  their 
hands  on,  and  are  destroying  what  they 

164 


can't  seize.  I  nearly  lost  this  load,  and  my 
life  into  the  bargain.  If  it  had  n't  been  that, 
without  knowing  it,  we  stopped  so  near  the 
Belgian  line  of  trenches  that  they  could  fire 
on  the  German  foragers  who  tried  to  take 
our  cargo,  I  should  n't  have  been  here  to  tell 
this  tale." 

''  God  only  knows  what  will  become  of 
Belgium  if  this  state  of  things  continues," 
groaned  the  merchant.  ''  Food  must  come 
from  somewhere  or  the  people  will  starve." 

/'True  enough,"  answered  Father  De 
Smet.  ''  I  believe  I  '11  try  a  trip  north 
through  the  back  channels  of  the  Scheldt 
and  see  what  I  can  pick  up." 

"  Don't  give  up,  anyway,"  urged  the 
merchant.  "  If  you  fellows  go  back  on  us,  I 
don't  know  what  we  shall  do.  We  depend 
on  you  to  bring  supplies  from  somewhere, 
and  if  you  can't  get  them  in  Belgium,  you  '11 
have  to  go  up  into  Holland." 

Mother  De  Smet  leaned  over  the  boat- 
rail  and  spoke  to  the  two  men  who  were 
standing  on  the  dock. 

i6s 


*'  You  'd  better  believe  we  '11  not  give  up," 
she  said.  ''  We  don't  know  the  meaning  of 
the  word." 

**  Well,"  said  the  merchant  sadly,  "maybe 
you  don't,  but  there  are  others  who  do.  It 
takes  a  stout  heart  to  have  faith  that  God 
hasn't  forgotten  Belgium  these  days." 

**It's  easy  enough  to  have  faith  when 
things  are  going  right,"  said  Mother  De 
Smet,  ''but  to  have  faith  when  things  are 
going  wrong  isn't  so  easy."  Then  she  re- 
membered Granny.  *'  But  a  sick  heart  won't 
get  you  anywhere,  and  maybe  a  stout  one 
will,"  she  finished. 

''That's  a  good  word,"  said  the  mer- 
chant. 

"  It  was  said  by  as  good  a  woman  as 
treads  shoe-leather,"  answered  Mother  De 
Smet. 

"You  are  safe  while  you  stay  in  Ant- 
werp, anyway,"  said  the  merchant  as  he 
turned  to  say  good-bye.  "  Our  forts  are 
the  strongest  in  the  world  and  the  Germans 
will  never  be  able  to  take  them.  There  's 

i66 


comfort  in  that  for  us."  Then  he  spoke 
to  his  horses  and  turned  away  with  his 
load. 

**  Let  us  stay  right  here  to-night,"  said 
Mother  De  Smet  to  her  husband  as  he 
came  on  board  the  boat.  *'  We  are  all  in 
need  of  rest  after  yesterday,  and  in  Ant- 
werp we  can  get  a  good  night's  sleep.  Be- 
sides, it  is  so  late  in  the  day  that  we  could  n't 
get  out  of  town  before  dark  if  we  tried." 

Following  this  plan,  the  whole  family 
went  to  bed  at  dusk,  but  they  were  not 
destined  to  enjoy  the  quiet  sleep  they 
longed  for.  The  night  was  warm,  and  the 
cabin  small,  so  Father  De  Smet  and  Joseph, 
as  well  as  the  Twins,  spread  bedding  on 
the  deck  and  went  to  sleep  looking  up  at 
the  stars. 

They  had  slept  for  some  hours  when  they 
were  suddenly  aroused  by  the  sound  of  a 
terrific  explosion.  Instantly  they  sprang 
to  their  feet,  wide  awake,  and  Mother  De 
Smet  came  rushing  from  the  cabin  with  the 
babies  screaming  in  her  arms. 

167 


**What  is  it  now?  What  is  it?"  she 
cried. 

**  Look !   Look  !  "  cried  Jan. 

He  pointed  to  the  sky.  There,  blazing 
with  Hght,  Hke  a  great  misshapen  moon, 
was  a  giant  airship  moving  swiftly  over  the 
city.  As  it  sailed  along,  streams  of  fire  fell 
from  it,  and  immediately  there  followed  the 
terrible  thunder  of  bursting  bombs.  When 
it  passed  out  of  sight,  it  seemed  as  if  the 
voice  of  the  city  itself  must  rise  in  anguish 
at  the  terrible  destruction  left  in  its  wake. 

Just  what  that  destruction  was,  Father  De 
Smet  did  not  wish  to  see.  **  This  is  a  good 
place  to  get  away  from,"  he  said  to  the  fright- 
ened group  cowering  on  the  deck  of  the 
**  Old  Woman"  after  the  bright  terror  had 
disappeared.  When  morning  came  he  lost 
no  time  in  making  the  best  speed  he  could 
away  from  the  doomed  city  of  Antwerp 
which  they  had  thought  so  safe. 

When  they  had  left  the  city  behind  them 
and  the  boat  was  slowly  making  its  way 
through  the  quiet   back   channels   of  the 

i68 


Scheldt,  the  world  once  more  seemed  really 
peaceful  to  the  wandering  children.  Their 
way  lay  over  still  waters  and  beside  green 
pastures,  and  as  they  had  no  communica- 
tion with  the  stricken  regions  of  Belgium, 
they  had  no  news  of  the  progress  of  the 
war,  until,  some  days  later,  the  boat  docked 

169 


at  Rotterdam,  and  it  became  necessary  to 
decide  what  should  be  done  next.  There 
they  learned  that  they  had  barely  escaped 
the  siege  of  Antwerp,  which  had  begun  with 
the  Zeppelin  raid. 

Father  De  Smet  was  now  obliged  to  con- 
front the  problem  of  what  to  do  with  his 
own  family,  for,  since  Antwerp  was  now  in 
the  hands  of  the  enemy,  he  could  no  longer 
earn  his  living  in  the  old  way.  Under  these 
changed  conditions  he  could  not  take  care 
of  Jan  and  Marie,  so  one  sad  day  they 
said  good-bye  to  good  Mother  De  Smet, 
to  Joseph  and  the  babies,  and  went  with 
Father  De  Smet  into  the  city  of  Rotterdam. 

They  found  that  these  streets  were  also 
full  of  Belgian  refugees,  and  here,  too,  they 
watched  for  their  mother.  In  order  to  keep 
up  her  courage,  Marie  had  often  to  feel  of 
the  locket  and  to  say  to  herself:  **  She  will 
find  us.  She  will  find  us."  And  Jan  —  Jan 
had  many  times  to  say  to  himself,  ''  I  am 
now  a  man  and  must  be  brave,"  or  he  would 
have  cried  in  despair. 

170 


But  help  was  nearer  than  they  supposed. 
Already  England  had  begun  to  organize 
for  the  relief  of  the  Belgian  refugees,  and 
it  was  in  the  office  of  the  British  Consul  at 
Rotterdam  that  Father  De  Smet  finally  took 
leave  of  Jan  and  Marie.  The  Consul  took 
them  that  night  to  his  own  home,  and,  after 
a  careful  record  had  been  made  of  their 
names  and  their  parents'  names  and  all  the 
facts  about  them,  they  were  next  day  placed 
upon  a  ship,  in  company  with  many  other 
homeless  Belgians,  and  sent  across  the 
North  Sea  to  England. 


XIII 
REFUGEES 


XIII 
REFUGEES 

If  I  were  to  tell  you  all  the  strange  new 
sights  that  Jan  and  Marie  saw,  and  all  the 
things  they  did  in  England,  it  would  make 
this  book  so  big  you  could  not  hold  it  up 
to  read  it,  so  I  must  skip  all  about  the  great 
house  in  the  southern  part  of  England  where 
they  next  found  themselves.  This  house 
was  the  great  country  place  of  a  very  rich 
man,  and  when  the  war  broke  out  he  had 
given  it  to  be  used  as  a  shelter  for  home- 
less Belgians.  There  were  the  most  won- 
derful woods  and  parks  on  the  estate,  and 
miles  of  beautiful  drives.  There  were  great 
gardens  and  stables  and  hothouses,  and  the 
house  was  much  bigger  and  finer  than  any 
Jan  and  Marie  had  ever  seen  in  all  their  lives. 
It  seemed  to  them  as  if  they  had  suddenly 
been  changed  into  a  prince  and  princess 

175 


by  some  fairy  wand.  They  were  not  alone 
in  all  this  splendor;  other  lost  little  Bel- 
gian children  were  there,  and  there  were 
lost  parents,  too,  and  it  seemed  such  a  pity 
that  the  lost  parents  and  the  lost  children 
should  not  be  the  very  ones  that  belonged 
together,  so  that  every  one  could  be  happy 
once  more.  However,  bad  as  it  was,  it  was 
so  much  better  than  anything  they  had 
known  since  the  dreadful  first  night  of  the 
alarm  that  Jan  and  Marie  became  almost 
happy  again. 

At  night  they  and  the  other  homeless 
children  slept  in  little  white  cots  set  all  in  a 
row  in  a  great  picture-gallery.  They  were 
given  new  clothes,  for  by  this  time  even 
their  best  ones  were  quite  worn  out,  and 
every  day  they  had  plenty  of  good  plain 
food  to  eat.  Every  day  more  Belgians  came, 
and  still  more,  until  not  only  the  big  house, 
but  the  stable  and  outbuildings  were  all 
running-over  full  of  homeless  people.  One 
day,  after  they  had  been  in  this  place  for  two 
or  three  weeks,  Jan  and  Marie  were  called 

176 


into  the  room  where  sat  the  sweet-faced  lady 
whose  home  they  were  in.  It  was  Hke  an 
office,  and  there  were  several  other  persons 
there  with  her. 

The  sweet-faced  lady  spoke  to  them. 
''Jan  and  Marie,"  she  said,  **  how  would 
you  like  to  go  to  live  with  a  dear  lady  in 
America  who  would  love  you,  and  take 
care  of  you,  so  you  need  never  be  lonely 
and  sad  again?  " 

**  But  our  mother !  "  gasped  Marie,  burst- 
ing into  tears.   **  We  have  not  found  her !  ** 

**You  will  not  lose  her  any  more  by 
going  to  America,"  said  the  lady,  "for,  you 
see,  we  shall  know  all  about  you  here,  and 
if  your  mother  comes,  we  shall  be  able  to 
tell  her  just  where  to  find  you.  Meanwhile 
you  will  be  safe  and  well  cared  for,  far  away 
from  all  the  dreadful  things  that  are  hap- 
pening here." 

**It  is  so  far  away!"  sobbed  Marie. 

Jan  said  nothing ;  he  was  busy  swallow- 
ing lumps  in  his  own  throat. 

**  You  see,  dears,"  the  lady  said  gently, 
177 


*'you  can  be  together  there,  for  this  woman 
has  no  children  of  her  own,  and  is  willing  to 
take  both  of  you.  That  does  not  often  hap- 
pen, and,  besides,  she  is  a  Belgian  ;  I  know 
you  will  find  a  good  home  with  her." 

**You're  sure  we  could  be  together?" 
asked  Jan. 

"Yes,"  said  the  lady. 

**  Because,"  said  Jan,  "Mother  said  I 
must  take  care  of  Marie." 

"  And  she  said  she  'd  find  us  again  if  she 
had  to  swim  the  sea,"  said  Marie,  feeling  of 
her  locket  and  smiling  through  her  tears. 

"  She  won't  have  to  swim,"  said  the  lady. 
"  We  will  see  to  that !  If  she  comes  here,  she 
shall  go  for  you  in  a  fine  big  ship  —  and  so 
that's  all  settled."  She  kissed  their  woe- 
begone little  faces.  "You  are  going  to  start 
to-morrow,"  she  said.  "The  good  captain 
of  the  ship  has  promised  to  take  care  of  you, 
so  you  will  not  be  afraid,  and  I  know  you 
will  be  goad  children." 

It  seemed  like  a  month  to  Jan  and 
Marie,  but  it  was  really  only  seven  days 

178 


later  that  they  stood  on  the  deck  of  the 
good  ship  Caspian,  as  it  steamed  proudly 
into  the  wonderful  harbor  of  New  York. 
It  was  dusk,  and  already  the  lights  of 
the  city  sparkled  like  a  sky  full  of  stars 
dropped  down  to  earth.  High  above  the 
other  stars  shone  the  great  torch  of  **Lib- 

179 


erty  enlightening  the  World."  ''Oh/' 
gasped  Marie,  as  she  gazed,  ''New  York 
must  be  as  big  as  heaven.  Do  you  suppose 
that  is  an  angel  holding  a  candle  to  light 
us  in?" 

Just  then  the  captain  came  to  find  them, 
and  a  few  minutes  later  they  walked  with 
him  down  the  gangplank,  right  into  a  pair 
of  outstretched  arms.  The  arms  belonged 
to  Madame  Dujardin,  their  new  mother. 
*'I  should  have  known  them  the  moment  I 
looked  at  them,  even  if  they  had  n't  been 
with  the  captain,"  she  cried  to  her  husband, 
who  stood  smiling  by  her  side.  *'  Poor  dar- 
lings, your  troubles  are  all  over  now!  Just 
as  soon  as  Captain  Nichols  says  you  may, 
you  shall  come  with  us,  and  oh,  I  have  so 
many  things  to  show  you  in  your  new 
home ! " 

She  drew  them  with  her  to  a  quieter  part 
of  the  dock,  while  her  husband  talked  with 
the  captain,  and  then,  when  they  had  bid- 
den him  good-bye,  they  were  bundled  into 
a   waiting    motor-car    and   whirled   away 

1 80 


through  miles  of  brilHantly  lighted  streets 
and  over  a  wonderful  bridge,  and  on  and  on, 
until  they  came  to  green  lawns,  and  houses 
set  among  trees  and  shrubs,  and  it  seemed 
to  the  children  as  if  they  must  have  reached 
the  very  end  of  the  world.  At  last  the  car 
stopped  before  a  house  standing  some  dis- 
tance back  from  the  street  in  a  large  yard, 
and  the  children  followed  their  new  friends 
through  the  bright  doorway  of  their  house. 

Madame  Dujardin  helped  them  take  off 
their  things  in  the  pleasant  hallway,  where 
an  open  fire  was  burning,  and  later,  when 
they  were  washed  and  ready,  she  led  the 
way  to  a  cheerful  dining-room,  where  there 
was  a  pretty  table  set  for  four.  There  were 
flowers  on  the  table,  and  they  had  chicken 
for  supper,  and,  after  that,  ice-cream!  Jan 
and  Marie  had  never  tasted  ice-cream  be- 
fore in  their  whole  lives !  They  thought 
they  should  like  America  very  much. 

After  supper  their  new  mother  took  them 
upstairs  and  showed  them  two  little  rooms 
with  a  bathroom  between.    One  room  was 

i8i 


all  pink  and  white  with  a  dear  little  white 
bed  in  it,  and  she  said  to  Marie,  "  This  is 
your  room,  my  dear."  The  other  room  was 
all  in  blue  and  white  with  another  dear  lit- 
tle white  bed  in  it,  and  she  said  to  Jan, 
**This  is  your  room,  my  dear."  And  there 
were  clean  white  night-gowns  on  the  beds, 
and  little  wrappers  with  gay  flowered  slip- 

182 


pers,  just  waiting  for  Jan  and  Marie  to  put 
them  on. 

**  Oh,  I  beheve  it  is  heaven ! "  cried 
Marie,  as  she  looked  about  the  pretty 
room.  Then  she  touched  Madame  Dujar- 
din's  sleeve  timidly.  "Is  it  all  true?"  she 
said.  ''  Shan't  we  wake  up  and  have  to  go 
somewhere  else  pretty  soon?" 

**  No,  dear,"  said  Madame  Dujardin 
gently.  **  You  are  going  to  stay  right  here 
now  and  be  happy." 

**  It  will  be  a  very  nice  place  for  Mother 
to  find  us  in,"  said  Jan.  "  She  will  come 
pretty  soon  now,  I  should  think." 

**  I  hope  she  may,"  said  Madame  Dujar- 
din, tears  twinkling  in  her  eyes. 

**  I 'm  sure  she  will,"  said  Marie.  **  You 
see  everybody  is  looking  for  her.  There  's 
Granny,  and  Mother  and  Father  De  Smet, 
and  Joseph,  and  the  people  in  Rotterdam,  and 
the  people  in  England,  too ;  and  then,  besides. 
Mother  is  looking  for  herself,  of  course !  " 

'*  She  said  she  would  surely  find  us  even 
if  §he  had  to  swim  the  sea,"  added  Jan, 


1  \  //    I 


XIV 
THE  MOST  WONDERFUL  PART 


XIV 
THE  MOST  WONDERFUL  PART 

And  now  comes  the  most  wonderful  part 
of  the  story ! 

Madame  Dujardin  prepared  a  bath  and 
said  to  Marie:  ''You  may  have  the  first 
turn  in  the  tub  because  you  're  a  girl.  In 
America  the  girls  have  the  best  of  every- 
thing"—  she  laughed  at  Jan,  as  she  spoke. 
"  I  will  help  you  undress.  Jan,  you  may 
get  ready  and  wait  for  your  turn  in  your 
own  room."  She  unbuttoned  Marie's  dress, 
slipped  off  her  clothes,  and  held  up  the  gay 
little  wrapper  for  her  to  put  her  arms  into, 
and  just  then  she  noticed  the  locket  on  her 
neck.  ''We'll  take  this  off,  too,"  she  said, 
beginning  to  unclasp  it. 

But  Marie  clung  to  it  with  both  hands. 
"  No,  no,"  she  cried.    "  Mother  said  I  was 

187 


never,  never  to  take  it  off.  It  has  her  pic- 
ture in  it." 

"May  I  see  it,  dear?"  asked  Madame 
Dujardin.  "  I  should  like  to  know  what 
your  mother  looks  like."  Marie  nestled 
close  to  her,  and  Madame  Dujardin  opened 
the  locket. 

For  a  moment  she  gazed  at  the  picture 
in  complete  silence,  her  eyes  staring  at  it 
like  two  blue  lights.  Then  she  burst  into  a 
wild  fit  of  weeping,  and  cried  out,  **  Leonie ! 
Leonie  !  It  is  not  possible  !  My  own  sis- 
ter's children ! "  She  clasped  the  bewildered 
Marie  in  her  arms  and  kissed  her  over  and 
over  again.  She  ran  to  the  door  and  brought 
in  Jan  and  kissed  him ;  and  then  she  called 
her  husband.  When  he  came  in  and  saw 
her  with  her  arms  around  both  children  at 
once,  holding  the  locket  in  her  hands,  and 
laughing  and  crying  both  together,  he,  too, 
was  bewildered. 

**  What  in  the  world  is  the  matter,  Julie?" 
he  cried. 

For  answer,  she  pointed  to  the  face  in 
i88 


the  locket.  '^Leonie!  Leonie!"  she  cried. 
**They  are  my  own  sister's  children  !  Surely 
the  hand  of  God  is  in  this!" 

Her  husband  looked  at  the  locket.  "  So 
it  is !  So  it  is!"  he  said  in  astonishment. 
*'I  thought  at  first  you  had  gone  crazy." 

*'See!"  cried  his  wife.  ''It's  her  wed- 
ding-gown, and  afterward  she  gave  me 
those  very  beads  she  has  around  her  neck ! 
I  have  them  yet!"  She  rushed  from  the 
room  and  returned  in  a  moment  with  the 
beads  in  her  hand. 

Meanwhile  Jan  and  Marie  had  stood  still, 
too  astonished  to  do  more  than  stare  from 
one  amazed  and  excited  face  to  the  other,  as 
their  new  father  and  mother  gazed,  first  at 
them,  and  then  at  the  locket,  and  last  at  the 
beads,  scarcely  daring  to  believe  the  testi- 
mony of  their  own  eyes.  "  To  think,"  cried 
Madame  Dujardin  at  last,  ''that  I  should 
not  have  known  !  But  there  are  many  Van 
Hoves  in  Belgium,  and  it  never  occurred  to 
me  that  they  could  be  my  own  flesh  and 
blood.  It  is  years  since  I  have  heard  from 

189 


Leonie.  In  fact,  I  hardly  knew  she  had  any 
children  —  our  lives  have  been  so  different. 
Oh,  it  is  all  my  fault,"  she  cried,  weeping 
again.  ''  But  if  I  have  neglected  her,  I  will 
make  it  up  to  her  children !  It  may  be  — oh, 
it  is  just  possible — that  she  is  still  alive  — 
and  that  she  may  yet  write  to  me  —  after 
all  these  years !  Sorrow  sometimes  bridges 
wide  streams! " 

Then  she  turned  more  quietly  to  the  chil- 
dren. 

**  You  see,  dears,"  she  said,  *'  I  left  Bel- 
gium many  years  ago,  and  came  with  your 
uncle  to  this  country.  We  were  poor  when 
we  came,  but  your  uncle  has  prospered  as 
one  can  in  America.  At  first  Leonie  and 
I  wrote  regularly  to  each  other.  Then  she 
grew  more  and  more  busy,  and  we  seemed 
to  have  no  ties  in  common,  so  that  at  last 
we  lost  sight  of  each  other  altogether."  She 
opened  her  arms  to  Marie  and  Jan  as  she 
spoke,  and  held  them  for  some  time  in  a 
close  embrace. 

Finally  she  lifted  her  head  and  laughed. 
190 


**  This  will  never  do  !  "  she  exclaimed.  **  You 
must  have  your  baths,  even  if  you  are  my 
own  dear  niece  and  nephew.  The  water 
must  be  perfectly  cold  by  this  time!  " 

She  went  into  the  bathroom,  turned  on 
more  hot  water,  and  popped  Marie  into 
the  tub.  In  half  an  hour  both  children 
had  said  their  prayers  and  were  tucked 
away  for  the  night  in  their  clean  white 
beds. 

Wonderful  days  followed  for  Jan  and 
Marie.  They  began  to  go  to  school ;  they 
had  pretty  clothes  and  many  toys,  and  be- 
gan to  make  friends  among  the  little  Ameri- 
can children  of  the  neighborhood.  But  in 
the  midst  of  these  new  joys  they  did  not 
forget  their  mother,  still  looking  for  them^ 
or  their  father,  now  fighting,  as  they  sup- 
posed, in  the  cruel  trenches  of  Belgitini.  'Btif 
at  last  there  came  a  day  when  Aunt  Jttlie 
received  a  letter  with  a  foreign  postmark. 
She  opened  it,  with  trembling  fingers,  and 
when  she  saw  that  it  began,  "My  dear  Sistei^ 
JuHe,"  she  wept  so  for  joy  thkt  she'  IddtiTd! 

191 


not  see  to  read  it,  and  her  husband  had  to 
read  it  for  her. 

This  was  the  letter:  — 

You  will  perhaps  wonder  at  hearing  from 
me  after  the  long  years  of  silence  that  have 
passed,  but  I  have  never  doubted  the  good- 
ness of  your  heart,  my  Julie,  nor  your  love 
for  your  poor  Leonie,  even  though  our  paths 
in  life  have  led  such  different  ways.  And 
now  I  must  tell  you  of  the  sorrows  which 
have  broken  my  heart.  Georges  was  obliged 
to  go  into  the  army  at  a  moment's  notice 
when  the  war  broke  out.  A  few  days  later 
the  Germans  swept  through  Meer,  driv- 
ing the  people  before  them  like  chaff  be- 
fore the  wind.  As  our  house  was  on  the 
edge  of  the  village,  I  was  the  first  to  see 
them  coming.  I  hid  the  children  in  the  veg- 
etable cellar,  but  before  I  could  get  to  a 
hiding-place  for  myself,  they  swept  over  the 
town,  driving  every  man,  woman,  and  child 
before  them.  To  turn  back  then  was  im- 
possible, and  it  was  only  after  weeks  of 

192 


hardship  and  danger  that  I  at  last  succeeded 
in  struggling  through  the  territory  occu- 
pied by  Germans  to  the  empty  city  of  Ma- 
lines,  and  the  deserted  village  where  we 
had  been  so  happy  I  On  the  kitchen  door 
of  our  home  I  found  a  paper  pinned.  On  it 
was  printed, '  *  Dear  Mother — We  have  gone 
to  Malines  to  find  you  —  Jan  and  Marie." 
Since  then  I  have  searched  every  place 
where  there  seemed  any  possibility  of  my 
finding  my  dear  children,  but  no  trace  of 
them  can  I  find.  Then,  through  friends  in 
Antwerp,  I  learned  that  Georges  had  been 
wounded  and  was  in  a  hospital  there  and  I 
went  at  once  to  find  him.  He  had  lost  an 
arm  in  the  fighting  before  Antwerp  and  was 
removed  to  Holland  after  the  siege  began. 
Here  we  have  remained  since,  still  hoping 
God  would  hear  our  prayers  and  give  us 
news  of  our  dear  children.  It  would  even 
be  a  comfort  to  know  surely  of  their  death, 
and  if  I  could  know  that  they  were  alive 
and  well,  I  think  I  should  die  of  joy. 
Georges  can  fight  no  more;   our  home  is 

193 


lost ;  we  are  beggars  until  this  war  is  over 
and  our  country  once  more  restored  to  us. 
I  am  now  at  work  in  a  factory,  earning  what 
keeps  body  and  soul  together.  Georges  must 
soon  leave  the  hospital — then,  God  knows 
what  may  befall  us.  How  I  wish  we  had 
been  wise  Hke  you,  my  Julie,  and  your 
Paul,  and  that  we  had  ,gone  with  you  to 
America  years  ago !  I  might  then  have  my 
children  with  me  in  comfort.  If  you  get  this 
letter,  write  to  your  heart-broken 

Leonie. 

It  was  not  a  letter  that  went  back  that 
very  day;  it  was  a  cablegram,  and  it  said: 

Jan  and  Marie  are  safe  with  me.  Am 
sending  money  with  this  to  the  Bank 
of  Holland,  for  your  passage  to  America. 
Come  at  once.  Julie. 

People  do  not  die  of  joy,  or  I  am  sure 
that  Father  and  Mother  Van  Hove  would 
never  have  survived  the  reading  of  that 
message.  Instead  it  put  such  new  strength 

194 


and  energy  into  their  weary  souls  and  bodies 
that  two  days  later  they  were  on  their  way 
to  England,  and  a  week  later  still  they 
stood  on  the  deck  of  the  Arabia  as  it 
steamed  into  New  York  Harbor.  Jan  and 
Marie  with  Uncle  Paul  and  Aunt  JuHe  met 
them  at  the  dock,  and  there  are  very  few 
meetings,  this  side  of  heaven,  like  the  re- 
union of  those  six  persons  on  that  day. 

The  story  of  that  first  evening  together 
can  hardly  be  told.  First,  Father  and 
Mother  Van  Hove  listened  to  Jan  and 
Marie  as  they  told  of  their  wanderings  with 
Fidel,  of  theiittle  old  eel- woman,  of  Father 
and  Mother  De  Smet,  of  the  attack  by  Ger- 
mans and  of  the  friends  they  found  in  Hol- 
land and  in  England ;  and  when  everybody 
had  cried  a  good  deal  about  that.  Father 
Van  Hove  told  what  had  happened  to  him ; 
then  Mother  Van  Hove  told  of  her  long  and 
perilous  search  for  her  children ;  and  there 
were  more  tears  of  thankfulness  and  joy, 
until  it  seemed  as  if  their  hearts  were  filled 
to  the  brim  and  running  over.   But  when, 

195 


last  of  all,  Uncle  Paul  told  of  the  plans 
which  he  and  Aunt  Julie  had  made  for  the 
family,  they  found  there  was  room  in  their 
hearts  for  still  more  joy. 

*'I  have  a  farm  in  the  country,"  said 
Uncle  Paul.  "  It  is  not  very  far  from  New 
York.  There  is  a  good  house  on  it;  it  is 

196 


already  stocked.  I  need  a  farmer  to  take 
care  of  the  place  for  me,  and  trustworthy 
help  is  hard  to  get  here.  If  you  will  manage 
it  for  me,  Brother  Georges,  I  shall  have  no 
further  anxiety  about  it,  and  shall  expect  to 
enjoy  the  fruits  of  it  as  I  have  never  yet 
been  able  to  do.  Leonie  shall  make  some 
of  her  good  butter  for  our  city  table,  and  the 
children"  —  here  he  pinched  Marie's  cheek, 
now  round  and  rosy  once  more  —  **  the  chil- 
dren shall  pick  berries  and  help  on  the  farm 
all  summer.  In  winter  they  can  come  back 
to  Uncle  Paul  and  Aunt  Julie  and  go  to 
school  here,  for  they  are  oitr  children  now, 
as  well  as  yours." 

Father  Van  Hove  rose,  stretched  out  his 
one  hand,  and,  grasping  Uncle  Paul's,  tried 
to  thank  him,  but  his  voice  failed. 

*'  Don't  say  a  word,  old  man,"  said  Uncle 
Paul,  clasping  Father  Van  Hove's  hand 
with  both  of  his.  **A11  the  world  owes  a 
debt  to  Belgium  which  it  can  never  pay. 
Her  courage  and  devotion  have  saved  the 
rest  of  us  from  the  miseries  she  has  borne 

197 


so  bravely.  If  you  got  your  just  deserts, 
you  'd  get  much  more  than  I  can  ever  give 
you." 

In  the  end  it  all  came  about  just  as  Uncle 
Paul  had  said,  and  the  Van  Hoves  are  living 
in  comfort  and  happiness  on  that  farm  this 
very  day. 


THE   END 


SUGGESTIONS   TO   TEACHERS 

American  children  who  have  been  giving  their  pennies 
to  help  take  care  of  little  Belgian  children  will  find  this 
new'"  Twins  "  book  one  of  the  most-appealing  that  Mrs. 
Perkins  has  ever  written.  The  author's  Preface  states 
the  sources  of  her  inspiration.  As  usual,  her  story  will 
be  found  sympathetic  in  spirit  and  accurate  as  to  facts. 

At  the  present  day  books  are  constantly  issuing  from 
the  press  which  will  assist  teachers  in  planning  their-own 
preparation  for  the  class  reading  of  this  book ;  for  ex- 
ample, Griffis's  Belgium:  The  Land  of  Art  2Xi<\  Gibson's 
A  yonrnal  front  our  Legation  in  Belgium.  Books  issued 
in  past  years  which  tell  other  stories  of  exile  or  emigra- 
tion, or  which  deal  with  European  countries  neighboring 
Belgium,  also  have  their  place  in  the  teacher's  reading. 
We  may  suggest  Griffis's  The  Pilgrims  in  Their  Three 
Homes  and  Brave  Little  Holland,  and  Davis's  History  of 
MedicBval  and  Modem  Europe  (sections  238,  266,  and  the 
account  of  the  present  war).  A  file  of  the  National 
Geographic  Magazine,  accessible  in  most  public  libraries, 
will  be  found  to  contain  many  articles  and  illustrations 
which  will  be  invaluable  in  this  connection.  Picture  post- 
cards, also,  will  supply  a  wealth  of  appropriate  subjects. 
Children  should  be  encouraged  to  bring  material  of  this 
sort  to  school. 

Once  the  historical  and  geographical  background  has 
been  sketched,  the  teacher  may  safely  trust  the  children 
to  get  th^  most  out  of  the  story.  Fifth  grade  pupils  can 
read  it  without  preparation.  Pupils  in  the  fourth  grade 
should  first  read  it  in  a  study  period  in  order  to  work  out 
the  pronunciation  of  the  more  difficult  words. 

The  possibilities  for  dramatization  will  be  immediately 
apparent.    In  this,  the  author's  illustrations  will,  as  in  all 

199 


the  "  Twins  "  books,  furnish  hints  as  to  scenes  and  action. 
They  may  Hkewise  be  used  as  the  subjects  of  both  oral 
and  written  compositions  —  each  pupil  selecting  the  pic- 
ture most  interesting  to  him,  and  retelling  its  story  in 
his  own  words. 

The  illustrations  may  be  used,  also,  as  models  for  the 
pupils'  sketching ;  their  simple  style  renders  them  espe- 
cially suitable  for  this  use. 


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